My dad has a plethora of “When I was a little boy…” stories.

They’re called, “When I was a little boy” stories because every childhood tale he tells begins with, “When I was a little boy…”

Lol claims she’s heard every one 50 times over and says they get longer with each telling.

Lol has many virtues, patience is not one of them. I once had to shush her during a wake because she thought the priest was saying too many hail Mary’s and outwardly exclaimed, “When’s he going to be done?!”

Lol’s irritation has turned Pa’s stories into a whole different pastime for us as a family.

It went from, “Oh Lord, here we go again…” to, “Haha look how annoyed Lol is.”

There are some stories we know will get more of a visceral reaction than others, so we have Pa tell at least one at every family gathering.

Our favorite array of go-to “When I was a little boy…” stories are as follows:

– The strawberry shortcake/light bulb story

– The Mr. Spatz fishing blind story

– The Philly Vacuzzi movies story

– The Port Jervis Pig’s dinner story

– The Washington DC story

– the Mallomars and Coke story

– the joining the Navy story

– and the ultimate family favorite (except for Lol obviously): The Mrs. Gramling story.

Behold, my friends, The Mrs. Gramling story as told by Pa (cue Lol’s eye roll):

“When I was a little boy, I lived in the same building as Rosemary and Kathleen (he pronounces it Kath-a-leen) Gramling.

On their birthdays, we would go to their apartment and play games. Then it would be time for cake.

Rosemary or Kath-a-leen, whosever birthday it was, would sit at the head of the dining room table. (This is where one of us chimes in and asks an inane question so that the story gets longer. We pretend to be really interested in the minor details, all while acting as though we’ve never heard the story before. Lol tries to change the subject but we never let her.)

“Did you sit next to the birthday girl?”

Yes, I would always sit here (motions to where he sat and tells us where every single other person sat).

We would sing “Happy Birthday” and Mrs. Gramling would bring out this big, beautiful, bakery cake with flowers, and writing, and whipped cream… or butter cream? No, I think it was whipped cream… (Lol can’t take it anymore and interrupts) “Get on with it, Tom.”

Then we all defend him and say, “No, this is important! Continue. Was it butter cream or whipped cream?” Steam begins pouring out of Lol’s ears.

I think it was whipped cream. Anyway, she’d bring out this big, beautiful bakery cake, with writing and flowers, and we’d sing happy birthday and Rosemary or Kath-a-leen would blow out the candles, and Mrs. Gramling would bring the cake back into the kitchen.

“Was it one of those old-timey kitchens with a swinging door?”

Lol yells, “WHO CARES?!”

“I do! I’m trying to paint a picture in my mind of what was happening! Please continue Pa.”

Yes, it was a swinging door. And Mrs. Gramling would bring the cake back into the kitchen. I figured it was so she could cut it up into slices, but she didn’t. No, she came back in the dining room with cupcakes. CUPCAKES!! I couldn’t believe it. I thought, ‘Where’s the cake??” But we’d never see it again. All we got were some stinkin’ cupcakes!

One of us asks, “Were they homemade cupcakes?” as Lol slowly picks up her steak knife.

No, they weren’t even homemade cupcakes! They were Dugan’s cupcakes that came in a plastic wrapper. I mean, they were ok, but I wanted a piece of cake!

“Why did Mrs. Gramling do that??”

Well I think she probably had the adults over at night and served the cake to them. She didn’t want to waste it on the kids.

“Did Mrs. Gramling do this with both Rosemary and Kath-a-leen?”

Yes. Every year. With both of them.

“After the first time, did you expect it to happen again?”

No, I was surprised it happened again but after that, I expected it.

“Did you ever ask why she did that?”

No. You didn’t question adults back then.

This usually continues until Lol loses her mind and her head is about to pop off her little body.

Good times.