I loved the stories my grandmother told about my mother growing up during the 1930’s. Mom loved to pretend she was a ballerina. She would use the potato hill as her stage and always got reprimanded for doing so. She could not resist the temptation and continued to dance on her make-believe stage.
One day, little Jean’s older brother, Horace, decided to take matters into his own hands and devise a plan to end the tiny dancer’s disobedience once and for all. During supper one evening, Horace spun a tale of a big, tall ghost who haunted the woods near the garden. He was known as Taddybocus. Horace warned six-year-old Jean about Taddybocus and told her she had better stay off those potato hills because the hills were very close to the woods.
It wasn’t long before Jean made her way to the potato hills. Peering around to make sure no one was watching, she climbed up the mound of potatoes and began to dance, imagining the lights and music following her as she moved gracefully across her stage. Jean stopped as a strange moaning drifted from the woods behind her. Jean’s eyes grew wide with horror as she looked toward the trees. A tall, shadowy figure moved slowly through the trees towards her. Rolling down the mound of potatoes, Jean screamed as she ran between the garden rows, tripping and tearing her new flour sack dress as she ran towards the house. Crying, she flung herself into her mother’s arms, screaming, “Taddybocus is coming to get me!”
Horace smiled as he removed the burlap sacks and twine he had placed over him and tied around his neck. He returned the pair of wooden blocks to the wood pile. They had been just the right size to make him appear taller. Little Jean never danced on the potato hills again.
Fast-forward twenty years. I was the oldest of four children, with three younger brothers who kept life interesting. Four-year-old Matt could be a handful sometimes. When mom and dad needed a babysitter, it was usually one of my grandmothers. This particular night, Mawmaw Tursy, mom’s mother, was babysitting. Matt, being Matt, would not behave, so Mawmaw Tursy sat him in her lap and began to tell the story of Taddybocus. She looked straight at four-year-old Matt and warned, “If you do not straighten up and behave, I will put you in a sack on the back porch and let Taddybocus come and get you.”
It wasn’t long before Matt forgot all about Taddybocus and began to torment our baby brother, making him cry. Mawmaw Tursy quietly walked into the kitchen and got a paper grocery sack. She opened the sack, walked back into the family room, picked up Matt, and returned to the kitchen. When Matt saw the sack, he screamed, “No Mawmaw, No Mawmaw, I’ll be good!” Mawmaw Tursy didn’t say a word. To my horror, she picked up the sack, opened the back door, put it down on the stoop, stuffed a screaming, crying Matt into it, and closed the back door.
Horrified, I began to cry, pleading with Mawmaw Tursy to let Matt back in the house. He was screaming and crying as he beat on the kitchen door. As I replay this scene in my mind, I can laugh. It wasn’t funny at the time, and if anyone did that today, DHR would probably come calling. But, when my grandmother opened that back door, Matt flung himself into her arms, tears streaming down his cheeks as he promised to behave. Matt did behave, at least for the rest of that night. Many more threats would be made using the name Taddybocus during our childhood. All it took was one mention of Taddybocus, and the misbehaving child straightened right up.
Isn’t it wonderful that even a funny childhood prank can calm our world? Sometimes, I wish I could return to those innocent, simpler times. But then Jesus gently reminds me that today, whatever comes my way, all will be forgiven, and His peace will be restored to me.
“Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done, then you will have God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand.” Philippians 4:6-7