Grandmother's Dish Soap

Grandmother’s Dish Soap

“I really wish your Great-grandmother Lutz had lived to see you grown-up,”  I told Oldest Daughter this week.

“Why?” she asked with a smile. She probably guessed what I was going to say.

“I think she would have been pleased with how much you resemble her in attitude, actions, and even in body build.”

"Oh, yeah. I could have a long talk with her about the size of my butt. Thanks, Grandma.”

"You’re Dad’s Grandmother was a lovely woman with a strong business sense and a no-nonsense attitude toward life. I very much admired her.”

"Oh, well, I liked Grandma, and I remember as a small child being curious as to why she never slept with a pillow. I kept trying to bring her one when she spent the night with us. She said she never slept with it. I thought that part of her was weird. Now that I am older, I would likely say. ‘No, shit, Grandma?”

“And your most-proper, lady-like Grandmother would speak sternly about your language. She did not like for her grandchildren to talk crudely, even though Grandpa Lutz and her daughters did.”

Husband interjected at this point. “Yes, she would tell you to get her bottle of dish soap, and she would wash your mouth out with soap.”

Oldest Daughter quickly caught his message. “How many times did you have to get the soap, Dad?”

“Once was all it took, thank you very much.”

“Did it make you sick?”

“Hell, I mean heck yes. It made me sick. It only took one time for her to use soap on me.”

“Did she squirt it in your mouth? That would make me vomit.”

“No, she squirt it on a dishcloth and brushed my teeth with it. Then she told me to rinse my mouth. It tasted nasty, and yes it did make me a bit sick. She had warned me, though. She said she would do it if she heard me swear one more time.”

“Why did you do it again, then? Didn’t you believe her?”

“I forgot. You know my ADHD impulsiveness and forgetfulness. I was caught in the moment. I just didn’t remember until I heard her call my name and tell me to go get the dish soap.”

“Isn’t 17 a bit old for your Grandmother to wash your mouth with soap?”

“I was only six or seven, smartie.”

I could see the wheels turning behind Oldest Daughter’s eyes. She couldn’t imagine my own Mother doing such a thing, and she couldn’t image me allowing her to do so.

Laughingly she asked, “What did your Mother do? Did she actually allow her Mother to wash your teeth with dish soap?”

“Mom would never correct Grandma Lutz. She just sat there and laughed at me. She was afraid to say much because she knew where I had learned those words. She might have been afraid she would be next.”

I knew that part was likely true. Grandmother would not have washed Betty’s mouth with soap, but mentally I saw her stern gaze and heard her firm tone. I imagine she would have said, “Betty! He only talks that way because he’s heard the same word come out of your mouth.”

We do not approve of Grandmother’s method in today’s world, but it was effective. Without medication or complimentary interventions, she quickly instilled in her grandson a motivation to remember and catch control his behavior when he was in her presence.

Husband still respects her memory, only praises her graciousness, and admires her business acumen. I don’t think the dish soap hurt him in any manner. And in fact, I have heard him tell the story so often , I rather think he views it as funny.