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 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!