The Milk Bottle

I was about three or four years old, and we were living in Windham Ohio. One morning my mother, brothers, and I were sitting around the dinning room table eating mush (oatmeal). Dad had an hour long drive to work, and had already left. We had a quart bottle of milk on the table which was being used liberally. When that quart was gone Mom asked for someone to get another quart from the icebox.

"I'll do it," I said, jumping up from the table.

"Okay, but be very careful."

"I will." I went over to the icebox, and pulled the door open. There was one quart of milk left. The milkman would probably not be coming by with more milk until the next morning. When I reached for the milk I noticed that the bottle was cracked all over. That was strange. Carefully I picked up the bottle at the neck. On the way back to the table I tried to say something about the milk bottle. "Mommy, there is something...." Just then the milk bottle burst open and milk drenched me, from my arm down to my shoes. Broken glass and milk rained on the floor. I was stunned. For a second there was silence as I stood there dripping milk. Then everyone began to speak at once.

"Look what you've done! You've dropped the milk bottle, you dummy!"

"I told you to be careful! Why can't you look what you're doing!"

"Ha! Ha! Oh, way to go, Dougie. What a jerk."

I started to cry. It was so unfair. I had been very careful. I couldn't understand it, I just knew I hadn't dropped the milk bottle, but how else could you explain the broken glass on the floor and the milk all over the place. I began to shake, whether from the cold milk all over me, or from being upset, I couldn't tell. Seeing me shake was amusing to my brothers, who started to laugh and point at me. My mother was very angry over the loss of the milk. The only thing I could think of to say was the truth as I saw it. "I did not drop the milk bottle."

"Oh boy, what a liar. I suppose that is not a broken milk bottle on the floor!"

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Very funny!"

"You expect us to believe that? You really are stupid."

"I did not drop the milk bottle," I repeated. Just then I noticed that the neck of the bottle was still in my hand. "Here's part of it still in my hand." My mother could see that I was right. Her anger left her immediately.

"I believe you. Here, I'll get a rag and help you clean up the mess," she said. I loved her for believing in me. Meanwhile my brothers continued to ridicule me. Just then I remembered what I was going to say before the bottle broke.

"The bottle was all cracked before I got it out of the icebox."

"Oh, no, Dougie didn't break the bottle," said one of my brothers in a sarcastic tone of voice, "it was broken before he touched it. Ho! Ho! Ho! Pretty funny, Dougie. What a little liar."

"Don't worry about it," said my mother. Suddenly she was angry with the milkman. "I'll have a talk with that milkman tomorrow morning!"