It got to be a real pain when I became a teenager. I was 15 when I met my first husband. We were kids who lived a couple houses apart. I was friends with his sister. He'd walk up the block and sit out front on the stoop, and we'd talk.
My family lived upstairs in a two family flat. There was a closed in sun porch at the back of the house. The quarter sized hole in the floor must have been a drain hole or where someone once had a wire. It was the perfect size for a clothespin to fit through. When we would sit out front, Mom would peek out the window and check up on me below. When we moved to the back stoop of the house, she would call my name periodically to make sure I was still there. When I didn't answer she would drop a clothespin down, narrowly missing us. Stealing a kiss? Necking? No way. We were dodging projectiles. Now I can laugh about it.
Hope you all had a happy Mother's Day.