This is part 1 of a simplified version of my Ramen Story for my students. You can read the full story instead if you prefer.
When I was very young, about three years old, my family and I moved to Germany to live for about three years, and while there I couldn’t watch American cartoons because they weren’t on German TV. That meant that when my family and I moved back to the US, one of the things I quickly learned about was that on Saturday mornings there were cartoons, from about 6am until about noon, and since my parents usually slept in on Saturday morning, there wasn’t anyone to tell me to stop watching TV and to do my homework, so I always looked forward to Saturday mornings and my cartoon watching time.
I have two younger sisters, Angela and Mary. My youngest sister, Mary, would wake up with me and I would make some simple breakfast for us, like cereal, and then we would watch cartoons together. However, my middle sister, Angela, liked to sleep in, and I think even today she still likes to sleep in. This meant that she would come downstairs later, after Mary and I had already finished eating. This story is about one of those Saturdays.
I think I was in the second grade, about seven or eight years old, and so Angela would have been five or six and Mary four or five.
Angela woke up late, as usual, and came downstairs hungry. She came into the living room, up next to the couch where Mary and I were watching TV, and said, “Theron, I’m hungry.”
Me, “I see.”
“I want to eat something.”
“I want to eat ramen.”
“I want you to cook me ramen.”
“You can make your own ramen.”
“I don’t know how.”
“There’s instructions. Read the instructions.”
“I can’t read.”
“There’s pictures. Look at the pictures.”
“Oh.” After this, Angela went into the kitchen and I kept watching television.
About two or three minutes later, Angela came back and asked, “How long do I cook the ramen?”
My reply was “Three minutes.”
Two minutes later a scream comes from the kitchen, “Theron! Theron! It’s on fire! It’s on fire!”