What do you get when you put together a four year old, a six year old, and a wad of bubblegum?
You get a bowl cut.
And so start my memories with you.
The little girl with the grass stained knees and forever tangled hair
The small boy with brush burned elbows and masking-tape suspenders.
What we utterly lacked in common sense we made up for in fun
And twice over in injuries
But what’s fun without a few battle scars?
Ever since that stair jumping competition my ankle will sprain with the slightest provocation
But 13 stairs, that’s something to be proud of, right?
And I still stand undisputed champion.
I was with you nearly 24/7 so in a way,
You sort of helped raise me.
As such was the case, for years I was known as
“That wild child”
“A free spirit”
“What a mess”
And with any family reunion scoldings would surely ensue for my lack in refinement.
But they weren't there when we told each other bedtime stories about the severed head
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