Mind Two:
Everybody has embarrassing childhood stories. I, however, have less than most people. Most aren't very cautious when it comes to acting as a child. I was...extremely. I did very few reckless things. That phase doesn't usually start until about age 5 and by then, I had a little brother who was reckless enough for the both of us. Since I only have a few of them, I will tell them to you.
How I Got Kicked Out of a Store
I was really little, like 1. My mom's friend had me for the day and decided to go to a stereo shop. Well, when we got there, I apparently started screaming my head off and wouldn't stop. I am sure Lynn tried everything, from rocking me to screaming "Shut the hell up!!!", but nothing was working. Let me tell you, it wasn't a cute little scream that sounds a little annoying, but it is manageable. No. It was a long, loud, earsplitting scream that didn't ever end. I am sure after about 5 minutes it was extremely annoying. That would be the reason the salesman kicked us out of the store. And now I am forever banned from that Radio Shack. Haha, no, not really. I am not banned from any Radio Shack and probably never will be. But wouldn't that be great if I was?
How I Flashed a Dude
The details on this one are a little fuzzy. All I really remember is that I was three. Terrible threes, as they say. I have no idea where we were, but I do know that I loved Barbie. Like played with them everyday and got them as Christmas presents. Well, my mom being the great mom that she is, bought me a pair of Barbie underwear. I loved them and never wanted to take them off. Well, I was so excited that one time we went out in public, I happened to be wearing them...with a skirt. Some poor, innocent guy walked by and I, being all cute and excited, decided that that was the perfect moment to show off my new panties. I walked right up to him, and proudly pulled up my skirt. My mom was mortified and my dad thought that I would grow up to be a hooker. My poor parents.
How Barbie Became a Cancer Patient
When I was about 5, I still loved Barbie. By this time, I had a little collection going on. I had a big, plastic container full of Barbie's that I would play with every day. One day, as every child does, I though it would be a fantastic idea if I gave myself a haircut rather than having my mom do it. First, I decided to practice on my Barbie. I did a pretty stand-up job. I proudly showed her off to my mom. She looked at me and said good job. (I didn't tell her about my haircut that was to take place.) Then I asked her how long she thought it would take for it to grow back. She then gave me this look, which today I have come to know as her "did you really just ask that look?", and had to tell me that her hair was never coming back. That threw my haircut out the window and I didn't get another one for a really long time because I thought it would never grow back.
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