Radio mirror (Nov 1937-Apr 1938)

when I talk to him he just agrees with everything I say. "You are a naughty, naughty boy, Ronnie," I say. He says, "jess." "You need a good spanking, that's what you need." He says, "jess." He nods his head so sadly. Then I say, "Ronnie, why do you do these bad things?" And he says, "Because I do — because I do." Well — you can't beat that for an answer. And speaking about consciences, it took little Sandra to teach me not to tell fibs. Honest. I never felt so bad in my life. She had to have her tonsils out. I wanted her to think it was a lot of fun so I built it all up as a swell time. The "hospistol" — that's the way she pronounces it — I painted as a wonderful place and taking tonsils out as something like ice cream and cake. Mama and Daddy will have all sorts of beautiful flowers around your bed, I told her. Well, I felt like a heavy all the way down to the hospital, leading the little kid to the knockout drops under false pretenses. I felt so bad I wished I'd told her the truth. And then do you know what happened? Well — when it was all over — Sandra came to and looked around the room and then up at the nurse, "Well, Rose," she said, "no flowers." And when I came to take her home, she didn't want to go. "I haven't had my tonsils out yet," she cried. She hadn't had a party yet, you see, and she was still looking for one. I felt like a heel. Yes, you know Sandra is like all women. When she's sick in bed she wants a lot of attention. So Gracie and the nurse put a lady's hat on her head and a veil and gloves and dressed her all up so she forgot all about her sore throat. That night George Jessel was over. He went up and saw Sandra in bed. "My — " said George, "you look beautiful, Sandra." "Yes," she said, feel beautiful too." You know (said Gracie) we took Sandra and Ronnie to New York with us this last time and we were very anxious to impress all our friends and relatives with how smart they were. So before we left we drilled Sandra in a series of questions and answers. We'd say, "How old are you, little girl?" And she'd answer, "Three years old." Then, "Where do you live?" and she'd answer, "Maple Drive, Beverly Hills, California," and then, "What kind of weather do you have out there?" and she'd answer, "Very unusual" — only she'd say "unushable." Well, Ronnie had been around looking on most of the time, but we hadn't counted on him. So the first time we tried to show her off, the man asked Sandra how old she was and she said "Three years old." Then to our consternation, he turned to Ronnie. "And how old are you, little man?" he asked. It was just question number two to Ronnie, that's all. "Maple Drive, Beverly Hills, California," he answered. The other day we had some visitors and we put the bee on Ronnie to sing "A Bicycle Built For Two" — he calls it "Daisy" — you know, "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true — " Well, Ronnie is sick of the song, What can you do with a boy who admits he's bad but just doesn't know how to help it? he's had to sing it so many times it's in his hair, and darned if he was going to give out. So he grabbed some bread on the table nearby and stuffed it in his mouth. He couldn't sing with a mouthful of bread and he was smart enough not to swallow so he could. He just sat there with his cheeks puffed out — and no "Daisy." Yes (said Gracie) having your children bring you up can be a little trying at times. Especially when they decide to put you in your place. Like the other night George came home and asked Sandra for a kiss. "No," said Sandra. George looked crushed and it made me mad. "Give Daddy a kiss, Sandra," I said. "No," repeated Sandra. "All right," I said, "then go in your room and close the door." Well, of course, then she cried, but every time I asked her if she was ready to kiss Daddy she yelled "No!" It was very embarrassing to George. Well, finally, after saying no about twenty times, Sandra softened up and said she'd kiss George. But then George was out of the mood; he wouldn't kiss her. But it worked that time. The next night when George came home Sandra said, "Where's my Daddy — I want to kiss him." You've got to be a little independent with your children every now and then or they'll run all over you. You've got to stand up for your rights. Of course, there are one or two things we manage to put over on our kids. I don't mean to infer that we actually tell them what to do, but we exert an influence. Sandra and Ronnie are a couple of little fishes, you know, and they practically live in the pool. But they both got the bad habit of opening their mouths every time they jumped in and swallowing a lot of water. It's got chlorine or something in it to disinfect it and it got so that every time they'd had a swim they couldn't eat any dinner. George figured that if they had something in their mouths that they didn't want to drop out they'd keep them closed. And if they kept their mouths closed, they couldn't swallow any of the water. And if they didn't swallow any water they could eat their dinners. So every time they went in the pool we gave them each one of those candy fruit balls — you know, a big ball of hard candy. That was swell, but they sucked so many fruit balls that they still couldn't eat any dinner! But hush — I believe they're coming down the stairs. Now remember what I told you. Ask Sandra what she is and she'll tell you she's a good little boy. Ronnie will say he's a good girl. Sandra raced in, and Ronnie scurried after. "Sandra," I said, "what are you?" "I yama good little girl." ' "Ronnie," I said, "what are you?" "I yama good boy." I looked at George. He was grinning like a goat. "When a two and three year kid," he said, "can break up Gracie Allen's gags, they're mighty unusual children!" 12