There Is Superstition

Kathy posted some fun questions on her blog this morning, but one especially caught my attention: "What was one thing your father always said?"  Her answer was that her father would not allow singing at the table.

Neither would mine! 

And I, solely out of years of training, never allow it.

BUT WHY?

In our case, it was almost certainly something to do with superstition.  My father's family was/is crazily superstitious.  No hats on a bed.  No shoes on a bed.  Turn around if a black cat walks in front of you.  Never go back to your starting point once you've left.  (Daddy forgot his wallet here once, realized it not even 1/2 mile away from the house, but would not backtrack to get it.  I had to mail it to him.) When someone gets out of a rocking chair, stop its rocking.  When someone gets off a swing, stop its swinging.  Daddy had a port wine birthmark all over one arm and onto his chest;  everyone in the family swore it was because my grandmother had watched a house burn down when she was pregnant with him.  At sporting events, he and I would switch seats if "our" player/team wasn't doing well.  Those are all that spring to mind just now, but there are more.

I still stop rocking chairs and swings.  The singing at the table thing, of course.  I remain ultra-superstitious about sports.  The black cat thing has never been anything.  In fact, we had a black cat --- Gable.  Daddy was always a hint on edge around him.  And as for not returning home once you've begun a trip. . .  When you realize that the one pacifier ---the ONLY ONE --- pacifier your baby uses is still at the house (or the only stuffed animal that will do, or the only blanket), you turn around RIGHT QUICK.  Am I right, moms?