Going through the ringer

This photo was taken at a mining museum by my bestest friend  Leslie B. bohm. She saw this old ringer washer and had to stage this picture.
The story behind this photo to the best of my recollection from hearing this story told over the years is:

When I was about 2 yrs old my family lived in a two story house in Bellefontaine, Ohio.The upstairs floor had a huge bathroom that echoed when you walked in, with a small closet back and to the right and window on the east facing wall. On the north side of the room was a claw foot tub that was so much fun to bathe in!
Well, this bathroom was big enough to also be the laudryroom and in there stood the ringer washer. The washer was very modern, it had an electric motor on the ringer. One day I was standing on a chair or stool helping my Mom do laundry, handing her the next item. We were working on towels. The phone rings. Mom rushes downstairs to answer it. She hears me screaming. She comes running back up the stairs to find me being eaten by the ringer on the washer. It was up to my tiny little shoulder chomping away at me! She turned off the ringer and gently pulled my arm from the jaws of the ringer. I was putting a wash rag into the ringer and must gotten my fingers a little too close.
I think I remember screaming and crying and my arm being a little flattened for a few days. Otherwise I was unhurt and do not have any lasting scars either physically or mentally. Hmmmmm. Let me think about that last one......