Tell me another one pleeeaaasssse.

Lately Brooke and Braden want to hear story after story about my childhood.  The stories really aren't that exciting, but they sit there completely enraptured and entranced by my every word.  I've told them about how I got my crayons back from the little thief in second grade who tried to steal them (like I was really going to let her get away with it), how I kept a friend from stealing scissors from the church we went to for after school care, about the time a friend threatened to not invite me to her birthday party, because I wouldn't give her my new toy (she invited me anyway by the way), and about how my sister and I used to play cops and robbers and how we would pretend our bed was a boat and the carpet was the ocean filled with man eating sharks.  I also told them about how I told my second grade boyfriend I could see his underwear hanging over his jeans, only to have him inform me that he could see my cute Hello Kitty panties also hanging over my jeans; can you say EMBARRASING?!!!!  Of course, I also pointed out that this same boyfriend bought me a huge Valentine's Day card with an iron on inside; it was my first official romantic gift.  I remember feeling mixed emotions; I was thrilled that John had gotten me a sweet card with the AWESOME iron on, but I was a tad embarrassed that my card was the biggest in the classroom.  It didn't help either when everyone told his mother (she was our room mom) how much John loved me; you know, the whole Carrie and John sitting in a tree, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. 

Well, last night Braden and Brooke wanted Rich and I both to share a story from our childhood, and I went first. 

See the sweet, angelic first grader above; yes, that would be me (the one on the right), and I admit, that I may have not had the best control over my temper.  It also might be possible that I was a little hothead at times; I may have gotten into one or two, or ten fights growing up (usually defending someone in my family I must add). 

Well, our story takes place on a school yard playground oh so many years ago.  Everyone was playing happily, running, laughing, and flirting; that is, my first grade boyfriend was flirting, with other girls, OH NO HE DIDN'T!  He must have temporarily lost his mind, so I will just ask him to stop; I know that should work.  So to continue our tale, I saunter over to Tyler, and politely ask him to put an end to his flirting; the heat must have gotten to him, because he actually said no.  To protect the innocent, I will simply say I may have, possibly, attacked my boyfriend, and my hand may have come in contact with his face a couple times (my dad would have been proud; he is the one who taught me to punch).  Well, to make a long story a tad shorter, I had to hug him in front of the whole class and say I was sorry, the last thing I had any desire to do at that point.

Upon finishing the telling of my tale, Braden quickly asked, "What happened after that?  Was he still your boyfriend?"  I quickly responded, as the realization of how twisted he must have been to still want to be my boyfriend hit me, "Yes, he was still my boyfriend.  He was my boyfriend until he moved away at the end of the school year." 

Still trying to digest everything, Rich began his story; first though, let me show you the little ruffian, the rascal, the hoodlum.

Rich's story was one of woe, and heartache.  Rich had received a special ring one Sunday at church, a CTR ring, a ring that would be a constant reminder to always choose the right.  Upon receiving his ring, he naively placed the ring on his middle finger, turning his finger purple and scaring his teacher into hysterics; coming to her senses, she quickly ran and got his mom to save the day.  After getting the ring pried off of his finger and readjusted, Rich wore it with pride for maybe a mere week, before tragedy struck.  During this short week, he wore it to school, where a boy in his class asked him to give him his CTR ring. Rich refused at first, but the boy began to make empty promises to bring it  back to him the following Monday.  Alas, Rich never saw said ring again, hence the woe, the tragedy, and the heartache.  

So what are the morals of these stories?  What do we learn from these stories; what did the children learn?

I know, I learned that I had a temper as a child (okay, maybe that is not new knowledge), that I have better control over my emotions now than I did as a child, that first grade boys sometimes don't make the best decisions in girlfriend selection, and I learned to not let Rich go first next time! 

Next time, I will come out as the angelic child, and he will be the hooligan! 

Where are the stories about him tying his sister up and pushing her down the stairs?  Where are the stories about he and his brother sneaking snakes into the house to scare their sisters?  Where is the story about the time he changed all the clocks in his house to trick his family? 

Maybe in the future, I will do all the storytelling!