I was about 7 and it was a rainy Saturday; my bestie and I were hanging around her house. Her mother started hinting that it was time for me to go, but I mostly ignored her. Finally she went into the bathroom and came out with a horrible looking thing with long tubes. She said, "Saturday afternoon is enema time in this house. Unless you want one, I suggest you leave now." I had no idea what an enema was, but was pretty clear I didn't want any part of whatever she was holding so I skedaddled. Probably ran all the way home.
Got home and asked my mother about them and had to press her for an explanation. Mom was a genteel woman who wore white gloves to the grocery store and avoided conversations about distasteful subjects, but there was no prettying up the reality of enemas. How to wrap my mind around what she was saying - the very idea that people would voluntarily do this to their bodies???? Oh my.
I stayed away from the Willis house for the rest of the weekend. Caught my friend at recess on Monday and asked her if it was true about the enemas. She went bright red and slowly said. Yes. Every. Saturday.
I don't have to tell you that on future Saturdays I avoided their house like the plague except for birthday parties, and even then I didn't linger. On other visits here, I'd sometimes see that horrible device hanging from the tub faucet. It gave me shivers like no horror movie could.
I never looked at her mother the same. Truth be told, when they moved to Texas a few years later I was more relieved than sad.