This procedure involved a great many pieces of paper, all spread out over every available surface, or so it seemed. The calculator, a fascinating device that plugged in and had glowing red numbers and a great many buttons of uncertain function, was brought out and made to do interesting and arcane tricks. There was muttering and occasional cursing, and invocation of My Full Name (for, given that this was Alaska, I was in receipt of oil dividends, and therefore had to pay taxes at the tender age of four).
Mostly I stayed out of the way and played with my stuffed animals. I got out my Tinkertoys and stacked the green and yellow windmill fins in piles on top of a box, one atop the other, shuffling them and disorganizing them and occasionally noisily pushing them all to the floor! Old Cat, my favorite stuffed toy, sat next to me, stoically watching the whole process.
"What on earth are you doing?" Mama asked.
"We're doing our taxes!" Old Cat and I explained.
Mama did her taxes a bit quieter after that.
