When I was a kid, my parents brought me to a zoo in California that had an alligator pit. Naturally, my head got stuck between the fence post that surrounded the alligator pit. Naturally, my parents turned around and left the exhibit not realizing their beloved child's head was dangling above the alligators. Can you say middle child? No one noticed.
Soon they realized I was not with them and retraced their steps. They found my ass sticking out of a fence and several zoo employees gathered around me, along with a small gathering of zoo patrons enjoying the show. I was too young to remember, but I'd like to think there was a tub of butter or Crisco that they were rubbing on my head to pop it out of there. Regardless, I was not eaten by the gators, so although I must have blocked it out, I did in fact escape.
Interestingly enough, I'm not that scared of alligators. I mean, I'm appropriately scared given that they can rip my face off. But I have a larger fear of Ronald McDonald, Oompa Loompas, and the word 'panties'. Maybe it's because for a short time, I lived among the gators in their habitat at the zoo. You know, like the boy who was raised with the wolves? He was totally down with wolves.
Fast forward to kindergarten. You know how a teacher decorates her classroom with the students names and birthdays? My mom noticed that mine said August 3. She corrected the teacher, telling her that was the wrong birthday. The teacher said that August 3 was the date she was given in the front office. I'm going to fast forward this little tale to the part where my mom found out SHE HAD BEEN CELEBRATING MY BIRTHDAY ON THE WRONG DAY! When she brought them a copy of my birth certificate for my school file, all was revealed.
And, to add insult to injury, she had thought my birthday was later in the week. So there I was, a young kid whose parents let her head get stuck in an alligator pit, and I was not even celebrating my birthday on the day it was happening. My real birthday just passed like any regular day. We probably ate fish sticks or something vulgar on the day of my birth! I should have been dining on mac and cheese!
She could never tell me how many years she had screwed up the date, but she did love that story.
FYI- if you are questioning the validity of these stories just know that my dad reads this blog and can verify.
Also know that if you are questioning these stories, it tells me that you had a normal upbringing.
So, next time you are wondering about how I got this strange, just reflect on these stories.
P.S.~Next time, maybe I will tell you about how my sister (who I also talk about in this post) accidentally cut my finger off in our front door.
Click here and vote for this blog to win the parenting.com funniest mom blog award. Like I said, I won't win, but it will help me find some new blood to read my drivel. Thank you!!
5 comments:
You are killing me with that birthday story!
I think you should just tell everyone it's your birthday all the time.
Since it was never celebrated accurately (plus the finger?), you kind of deserve it.
Think about it.
EVERY TIME you go into an Olive Garden or Red Lobster or something...
Free. Dessert.
Totally worth it.
You poor poor middle child with the forgotten birthday and buttered head.
My mom cut my finger off with the front door when I was nine months old. Are you my sister from another mister?
OMG I love it. New follower from the sits girls forum.
Oh dear...
Full confession: I kept telling people that my daughter's birthday is on the 25th of October. Yeah. It's on the 24th. THANKFULLY I avoided missing the date, but only just barely...
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