My Confusing Inquiries

My Toddler Life

I have horribly bad memory, I have been known for that. Especially short term, but mostly long term. So bear with me as I explain because I have gotten these "stories" from family members and others.

So here it goes, stairs.

They were my main torments in my toddler years, ruining my day constantly with a thud. Making life-long scars resonate from my body, causing immense pain for only five seconds. I was a clumsy baby, surprising due to the whole fact that today I am very weary and neurotic of my surroundings. I once freaked out about having to go on the Maid Of The Mist at Niagara Falls, it's a long story for another day but.........ok, let's continue.

My first sort of "scar" was on my eye, yes, a painful part of your body. There was a family occasion going on as I remember. I was downstairs by myself, playing with a Woody From Toy Story doll. Basically I wanted to go upstairs to show everyone my doll because I had short term memory loss and I had already showed them five times.
But this time, it was bad......really bad. As I was headed up the stairs I tripped.
The nose of this Woody doll the proceeded to impale my eyelid, luckily it only scratched the surface. But I came upstairs, crying, with blood trickling down my face.

My family was horrified and even my aunt ( as I believe) screamed. The moral of that story is that stairs are evil dickheads sent by Satan himself to injure you in different ways🤗.

My second incident was involving my grandparents cat, Ira, now Ira was not a happy cat. He despised everything that he saw, even his brother George ( R.I.P). So I thought that maybe me and Ira could be friends, so I walked over to the kitchen table, where he was hiding under it. I crouched down and began to reach for him, ignoring the aggressive hisses that he gave out. Then chomp! He bit down on my wrist then scampered off, so yeah, my hand was bleeding.

Maybe that's why I didn't care about him dying as much as I cared about George dying, George is bae, love him like I love him. The moral of this story is, never to piss off a cat, because they probably already pissed at you.

The third incident is actually *smirks* really stupid and partially all me.
So one day my Grandad ( R.I.P) was babysitting me and my brother when I was about three and my brother eight, you know, that time in his life when he had short bright blonde hair instead of dirty blonde hair that looks like a dirty mop.

So my brother and I, the idiots that we were, decided that we would become skydivers and jump off the stairs. Our Grandad warned us that we would indefinitely get really hurt and tried to stop us. But the McGivney Brother Fury was too tricky to catch, my brother was first, jumping elegantly ( notice how I emphasized that) to the floor.
I was so jealous that I decided that I would add a little bazazz to my jump.

So I twisted mid-air.

Then fell, and as I tumbled down the stairs, I was somersaulting down the stairs.
Oh............did I mention it hurt like HELL. But all my brother did was laugh as my Grandad treated me( ass). So the moral of this story is........don't do shit that's stupid.....or your whole entire family will laugh at you till you die.

But there are some parts of my Toddler Years that were excellent!
Like my first trip to P.E.I ( Prince Edward Island), where I had my first taste of salt water ( delicious). Meeting life long friends like my friends Serli, Ashely, Ciara, Farah, and Anthony. And being very romantically in love with dressing in a Snow White dress and prancing around the house singing " Somewhere Over The Rainbow" from The Wizard Of Oz ( I wasn't confused about gender, I was confused about which movie Snow White was in.

So yes...................I was a special child.........