Patrick G Tardif

 
  City of Birth:
Warwick, QC
 
 

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Patrick 's Story > Chapters > My very early age

"Petit Singe" 

 

Date Range: 01/01/1971 To 12/01/1972   Comments: 3   Views: 5,668
Attachments: No
 

There is one story that must be told. I liked to climb things when I was a baby and I remember most of those memorable moments except this one, which my mother claims is the truth. When I was one and a half years old, we lived in what was my first house in the street of rue St-Louis, Warwick, Quebec, Canada. That day was a hot clear one; during the summer and my father was doing repairs on the roof of his new house. In order to climb up there, he installed a ladder in the front of the house, just some basic ladder you can buy at Home Depot.


My first house, front side


I'm not sure where I was when my father was doing the repairs, but in my town, babies can walk outside where the streets were safe, and still are today. I was probably outside watching my father or, at least trying to figure where he was. He had climbed on that strange thing and disappeared. That's probably what my mind was processing back then. A nice lady, our neighbor who I liked to visit to watch the red fish in her red fish aquarium was probably outside in her porch watching people walking around, or perhaps even watching me. Maybe she knew.


Anyhow, I was there, trying to figure out why my father disappeared after reaching the top of that thing (the ladder). I decided to go for it; if he could, I could. So at 1.5 years old, still a baby wearing pampers, I climbed that ladder to the roof top and start walking around. My father did not notice a think; he was the other side preoccupied with his work. The nice lady came to warn my mother, who immediately ran outside to speak with me, very afraid and stunt.


Me laughing and having fun



She really thought I would just jump off that roof. I was just a baby after all; I don't know better my mother thought. She asked me to sit my butt down and stop moving, but she asked in a way that was calm, nice, in the way you speak to baby when they are cute. So I threw myself flat on the roof and waited.


My mother climbed the ladder to pick me up and there I was enjoying the view, laughing at my mother's stunned face.


Myself and my mother


 



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Member Since
Aug 2007
Archibald Sharron said:
posted on Jun 16, 2009
Mr. Patrick

I don't need to state the obvious, but it's a very good thing that you had little monkey skills so that you didn't fall and break your neck. I can imagine the horror on your mother's face as she tried to make sure you thought nothing was wrong until she could snatch you to safety.

Good thing, otherwise this site might not exist today.

With regards,
Archibald Sharron


Member Since
Jan 2009
Sam Henderson said:
posted on Jun 17, 2009
petit = small

What does 'singe' mean?


Member Since
Aug 2007
Patrick Tardif said:
posted on Aug 25, 2009
Thanks for your comments

Sam, 'singe' mean 'monkey'. We use that expression in Quebec.