Welcome to Gaia! ::

My parents don't tell me anything I did except for crying very loudly! Maybe I didn't do much...

As a child, I lived in California. Well, according to my mom, there were a couple of kids who picked on me a lot. One day, I guess I just got tired of it, and I commenced with the asskicking. My father asked my mother, "Are we going to go down there?" and my mom said, "She can handle it."

That's one of my favorite kid stories. =D

Well, there aren't that many that they tell. They try and avoid telling of my past...but they like to tell about how when I was a kid I waould just flat out eat sticks of butter, and I how even after eating straight butter I was still underwieght. Really there aren't many funny stories in my past period, and less that don't embarass me.

Well, there is one other funny storie...but it's from when I was in 7th...I hit a car...

I was riding home from school one day, and my brother took off. He got way ahead of me, having started like five min before me, so I struggled to catch up. Also my bike had been a donations, and though I didn't know it, had no brakes. My brother hit the button at the light, then crossed. He finished just as I got there, so I took off right after him...while a car was turning. BANG! And I was thrown backwards off my bike into a fence. Try not to do that, it hurts. A lot. Then just a couple years ago I ran into a car again, on foot. I was crossing, had looked both ways,but had the hood of my jacket up. I got to about the middle of the street and then my friends said they hears a screech, a slam, a couple of thumps * I went rolling along the side of the car* and then a light thud as I went down. They say I stayed down for almost thirty seconds, but I just remember hitting the pavement, then shoving myself off it. The guy I hit was about ten feet from me, looking under his car. I ran up to him, told him I was okay, and walked off. I still hate crossing streets though.

Oh! I remember this one time I was inn Illinois and I was on one of those big tanks they have on display...at I don't know where, it's in like a garden thing, and there is a museum, and I jumped off one into my Dads arms ( I was in sixth grade), or tried, but got caught on this little peg thing by my shorts, and ended up hanging there upside down until they could get me down...I had this huge scrape up my leg, and a bruise/scar that lasted for three months...both of them...

I don't think there are any that embaress me, not that I can think of right now anyway.

One of my favorites occurred when I was three or four and my big sister was having a Girl Scouts meeting at our house, which, for reasons beyond my understanding, took place in the garage. Well, the garage door was open and our front yard was, and still is, full of little red rocks. If you haven't already guessed, I stuck one up my nose. However, no one could get it out because it was wedged so far in there and this woman (probably someone's mother) with these incredibly long fingernails had to scrape it out.

Another one is when I was five and our family drove up a little ways onto the base of a mountain out in the desert. My sister (the Girl Scout) and mother were picking needles off of one cactus and, bieng the impressionable little child that I was, decided I wanted to do that too. So I picked a funny looking cactus with ball shaped growths (yes, all you who know what kind that is, go ahead and snicker, God knows, I do whee ). I tried to pull a needle out of one of those balls and, as I recall seeing it, it jumped on my hand! For those who don't know, we in Arizona have these things called jumping cacti and every single person who lives here knows to stay a good few feet away from them. I had yet to learn that. sweatdrop

In any case, I recall screaming a heck of a lot more than I cried. Someone, possibly my dad, had to pry the thing off with this pair of tongs--huh, I just realized we still have them. In fact, they're pretty much the only pair we use when cooking even though we have two newer ones. I guess once tongs prove themselves by yanking a cactus ball out of a five-year-old's hand, they get to stick around for a good long time (about 13 years, in fact). mrgreen

Okay, one more. I had just turned five (the story above took place the following summer) and my mom was pregnant with my little sister. The only time a remember was one day when she said that the baby was kicking and us kids (just four then, five if you count unborn children 4laugh ) gathered around to feel. We had to take turns because we couldn't all fit our hands on one tiny spot at the same time and I had to wait a minute or two longer because the baby (so weird to call her that) had stopped kicking. When she started up again, I hugged my mom's belly and leaned my ear against it to feel--and got kicked in the teeth! Thus, I rest my case. My little sister started every fight we've ever had by kicking me in the face for no reason...well, that's what I keep saying. She just laughs at me. lol

My parents had to hide their lighters and matches when Andrew was around...and for a month they refused to leave us alone in the car for more than litteraly two seconds b/c once one of my brothers, when he was two, got ahold of the car keys and drove our car into our house.