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Growin Up Lego Wars
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Iím not sure if this article should be considered as humorous or advice on Parenting.
There are two reasons I think I will file this one under Humor.
1. I have no children, unless you count my dog.
2. I donít want to make any childís life harder than it already is.
I will go ahead and warn you, this article is number one in a series. So it will be your responsibility to remember who is who when reading my childhood exploits. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, all of these stories are true.
I guess I should start by introducing the main characters. I am not going to go through the trouble of changing any names, for I donít think they will sue.
1. Brent, my older brother who is approximately 2 Ĺ years older than me.
2. Kevin, my cousin who is approximately 1 Ĺ years older than me.
3. Yours Truly
4. Jeff, Kevinís little brother who is 2 months younger than me.
When we were growing up we only saw each other at most 5 times a year. That would have been understandable if not for the fact we lived less than 10 miles from one another. We loved to hang out but our parents would not let us see each other very often; yet my mother and aunt would be talking on the phone to each other constantly. I did not understand why until I was older. Every time Brent and I would get together with our cousins somebody would get injured. I am not talking bruises, I am talking blood pouring, black eye, doctor visit kind of injuries. We just always seemed to get into more trouble together than alone.
The incident that traumatized my mother the most had to be the Lego-War Incident. Mom had let Kevin and Jeff spend the night at our house. It was on a Sunday night during the summer. I was around 12 years old at the time, so mom let us stay alone at the house while she was at work. I cannot remember what we did most of the day, but around 2 oíclock one of us got the bright idea to play king-of-the-mountain. Which wasnít that bad of an idea, but we decided to change the rules to make it a little more interesting. The mountain was a twin-size bed, and there were three of us on it. The three contestants were as follows: Kevin, who was built like a scarecrow, up against Jeff, who was short and fat. Finally there was Yours Truly, who was the same size as Jeff. Then, on the floor, was the Boss, who happened to be my older brother. He had nominated himself to be the person that would motivate the others to stay on the mountain. He did this by cutting whoever got thrown off the bed with the spear until the poor soul could get back on the bed. So there we are, fighting as hard as we can not to get cut to pieces by my brother, who was laughing like a maniac, and doing our best to make sure our companions were bloodied up nicely. After a while, we grew tired and no one fell off of the mountain. This situation was intolerable to my brother, who began to reach over the edge of the bed and would cut whomever he could reach. Needless to say, by the time we grew tired and came down the mountain, Kevin, Jeff and I were all covered in cuts. My brother was untouched. My mother almost fainted as she came home from work for we had met her at the door, all of us grinning from ear to ear. I still, to this day, do not know what she said to her sister Janis when she took my cousinís home. I think that we did not see them again until Christmas of that year. I do know what she did to Brent and I when she came home.
It was definitely worth it though; I cannot think of another time whe I had so much fun.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW
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Reader Count & Comments
28 Mar 2006
Ha ha ha ... You got me chuckling quite a bit. It definitely fits the humor section. For a moment I was wondering whether you were going to say that the bed broke... maybe I was expecting that as that's what happened to me in a similar situation when I was around nine or ten..... playing the princess who was rescued by a prince, fighting a fierce dragon. Unfortunately, I remember all too well that I had to sleep on the floor till a new bed was settled in.
Childhood is fun... and you brought out an optimistic view of looking at the situation, by how you ended your piece. Keep writing... you have potential.
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