Because I was a weird kid – flying doggie doo

I feel like my childhood stories are usually the most random, and ridiculous. Every once in a while, someone’s stories trump mine, but usually not. I’ll chalk it up to a rampant imagination and free reign to do what I wanted. I thought I could fit them all into this one post, but I’ll do a series…

So when I was still living in Colorado (where my parents met in college, and I lived until I was 11) I had a babysitter, well she was much more than that, she was certainly the mother figure in my life, and I adore her endlessly.  She was my best friend’s grandmother, so I too affectionately called her Gram, well still do actually.  Every day after school and every day all summer I spent at her house until we moved to MA. So her granddaughter and I were the same age and inseparable, and we were also troublemakers.

Because I was a little brown girl, and she was not, we called ourselves the ‘swirl sisters’ I made the word ‘swirl’ popular  long before Bossip did. We’d stack our fists one of top of the other as we chanted;  chocolate, vanilla, chocolate, vanilla, SWIRL SISTERS! Until I had a growth spurt at age 9, we were the same size, and used to wear matching outfits to school, and people asked if we were twins. That still cracks me up.  Gram was a seamstress and would let us pick out our own fabric and patterns and make us matching anything and everything we wanted.

We were cute swirling trouble is what we were. I thought I’d ease into our shenanigans, but I’ll start with gusto instead, now that you have some backstory. Soooo we weren’t big fans of playing with the other kids on our block, we didn’t want them to swim in ‘our’ pool, or play in ‘our’ sandbox, and certainly not ride ‘our’ scooters, so we became mean girls at one point. Our favorite summer ‘game’ was ‘war’.

We had two teams, one teams hideout was in the treehouse, the other was the ‘jungle’ which really was just the side of the house behind the pool that became overgrown with weeds every summer. We’d chose our hideout, usually the treehouse and war would begin…war against the other kids. The boys across the street were the worst, one told me to ‘suck an egg’  once, and I’ve hated him since. He said it with such malice : (. So he became our worst enemy and fell under enemy attack, of dog poop that is.

It was Easter time and we had copious amounts of those plastic eggs that pop open to put candy in. Well they’re meant for candy but after I was told to ‘suck an egg’ we decided we’d bomb them with colorful poop filled plastic eggs. We found a sizable stick to somehow scoop doggy doo into the eggs and then we skipped across the yard up to our treehouse hideout with devlish grins from ear to ear.

“ENNEEEMMYYY ATTTACK”  We yelled, and an easter basket full of dog shit filled eggs went over the fence at rapid fire…

The End.

Yes I’m ashamed I did that, kind of.

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~ by tortillacachupa on September 9, 2010.

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