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Lamb Monkeys Around

One of my all time favorite blogs is The Spohrs are Multiplying. Inspired by Heather's recent post, Tore a New One, I had a pathetic (I truly was!) childhood story of my own to tell. Here is what I wrote to Heather:

I don’t think this quite tops your hilarious butt injury, (laughing WITH you, not at you, of course!) but my childhood accident also involves the monkey bars. I was in 2nd grade and swinging from bar to bar on the school playground, all alone because my best friend hadn’t come to school.

When I was done playing, I looked down and saw a HUGE blister on my palm. How huge? Look at your hand. My entire palm was a blister! I knew I needed to go to the nurse, but I was soooooo shy and afraid to go. Instead, I spent the rest of lunch wandering around the playground, kinda dazed and jittery and wondering what to do.

Eventually, a group of little girls took me to the nurse. Thank goodness for second-graders with a motherly instinct!

 I don't have a 2nd grade photo to share, so a baby photo will have to do for this post. Oh, the scaredy cat this little girl would grow up to be!


  1. I remember those blisters. I had some wicked calluses when I was a kid.

  2. I can't find a way to e-mail you so I'll just do it here! You win the giveaway on my blog! Shoot me an email with your mailing info!! :)

  3. That just SOUNDS painful to me...I cringed when I read it!

  4. Hehehe how sweet. Ahh Monkey Bars they are dangerous things arn't they!? I watched my brother break his arm on one of those once and his bone was poking right out... ew


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