One woman's quest to remember her mother and find herself. I am who I am, in very large part, because I am my mother's daughter. But she never wrote down her stories like I wished she had. So, this is where I will tell my stories before it's too late.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

"Wuff Me"

When I was a toddler, I used to wander around the house picking up random items, rubbing them on my arm, dropping them and moving on to the next until I found just the right thing. It was a peculiar ritual that made no sense to my mother until this one day when I finally did find Just the Right Thing, probably a playing card or even a barrette turned on edge, and I knew my search was over.

I immediately went to Mom, held the object before her and said, "Wuff me, Mommy."

Now, I was something like 2 years old and she was still learning how to speak Karin, which created a language barrier that frustrated us both.

"Wuff me!" I demanded.

"I don't know what you want, Karin!" she said.

I practically clucked my tongue and rolled my eyes, something I got very good at about ten years later. Then I demonstrated how to properly Wuff. Take the wuffer and lightly drag it across the skin of the arm in a half tickle/half scratch fashion. So she did and my whole little body went limp. For those of us who are me, it is highly satisfying. We continued this ritual until I was--oh, who am I kidding--I'm always in search of a good wuffer.

Business cards and credit cards work really well. The prongs of a fork will do in a pinch, if you're careful. The clip on a pen is good, too! A photo is okay, but a bit flimsy. A book edge will work, but in all is just too bulky. Never ever use an ordinary piece of paper. And soft or round things in general are right out.

You don't need a mommy to wuff you, but if you do have one, by all means, I highly recommend a few sweet wuffing moments with her. Life is short.