When I was three years-old, a stupid little girl threw me off the monkey bars. The ultimate result of this disaster was that I broke my arm. I didn't know that specifically at the time, but I did know that it hurt...a lot. The teacher did her due diligence and called my parents. To their credit, both of them showed up to take care of me. I only remember two things vividly about this memory.
I remember that I would not leave the daycare until my parents changed my shoes. The daycare had a strict policy about not wearing your outside shoes inside, and vice versa. So, here are my poor parents trying to rush me to the emergency room, and I'm crying and won't leave until they changed my shoes.
I also remember that my father brought me a stuffed dinosaur. I named him Dino. I used to carry that thing around by the neck everywhere I went. I still have him. His head flops to one side now, because I squeezed all the stuffing out of his neck.
