Eyes in the Back of Her Head

My adoptive mother was born in the early 1900s.  The time and the fact she had many siblings made for some pretty interesting stories.  This is one of many. 

One afternoon, Mom and I were busy doing something, I don't exactly remember.  The little ones were playing, Vi was sitting cross-legged on the chair.  You know where the front windows are? That's where she sat with her back to the window.  She didn't walk until she was about 5.

"Why's that?" I asked.

Oh, I don't know.  Maybe she just liked for us to carry her around.  Anyway, all of a sudden, she blurted out, "Oh, Dad fell off the bike."  Mom and I just looked at her.  Mom said, "What are you talking about?"  "Oh, he came around Spring's corner too fast and fell off.  He's okay.  He didn't get hurt."

Dad finally came home.  He started to tell us how he took the corner too fast, went off the road, and fell off the bike.  We looked at each other.

She's always been that way.  Vi, I mean.  Odd.