I'm a pacifist today, but back when I was young, I was a hard hitter.
Literally.
My perfect older brothers had gone through all of elementary school without a single disciplinary issue (except when one of their bullies bit their butt and the whole situation landed them in guidance, but that's a different issue). Sweet little me was supposed to be the same way.
Kindergarten went smoothly, except I did tend to cry way too often, but I still do that today. I think I have overactive tear ducts or something, but whatever. That's beside the point.
Then first grade came, and I got my first boyfriend. The thing about him (that kind of freaks me out now that I look back on it) was that he liked to be slapped. I never did it overly hard, but slapping him was sort of like our secret handshake. The first grade equivalent of making out.
So whenever I saw him, I slapped him.
The problem came when we all went on a field trip to a nature reserve nearby. We were all herded together, and I was with him.
So I slapped him. Just a light little tap on the cheek.
But I did it at a poor time. My teacher saw, and I got a thinking slip. A thinking slip was the equivalent of a detention in elementary school, and it caused all types of problems for those naughty children who received one. They didn't get to eat with their friends on Friday. They had to clean the cafeteria instead. They had to fill out this slip of paper explaining what went wrong and why it was wrong.
I was mortified. I instantly burst into tears (those overactive tear ducts, man), and I thought my whole world was falling apart.
But then I found the loophole. My mother never had to know. If I didn't tell her, she'd never find out.
So I got home, and when my mother asked me how the field trip was, I said it was a blast. She totally bought it... until my teacher decided to call her. That whole thing where teachers have parents phone numbers never crossed my mind.
And this is how I got grounded for the first and only time in my life. It all worked out, though. All I missed out on was tennis, and I hated tennis anyways.
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Story Time
HumorMy life is a series of awkward moments separated by snacks, and this is my life story.