Why do we have to grow up?

Why can't we just stay little? I remember when the only worries I had were if I would get to play with Tela and if I was going to get another spanking when Daddy got home. Boy could we get into stuff! There was this one time when Tela and I found baby rabbits. We took them back to Tela's house, and low and behold they start foaming at the mouth and acting all crazy. Aunt Jacque told Ace to shoot them because they were rabid. Rabid Rabbits. That was tragic. I just thought they were excited to have a new home.  

Or take the time when I rode my bicycle to the mailbox to get the mail (yes, my bicycle had a basket) and the bull in the pasture started making really loud noises. I thought it was going to attack me, so I sat under the mailbox and cried for 45 minutes until Uncle Danny drove by and got me. Now I know it was only talking to the female cows saying, "Hey snazzy lady. Want me to by your baby's daddy?"  I would love to go back for one day and just live. Live without thinking about cancer and death and bills and ALL THIS STUFF that we think about. Wouldn't you just love to roll around and get dirty and only have to think about the chlorine bath that will come later to get all the sea ticks off? I sure would.


Me with my cousins Tela, Wesley, and Seth. Another glorious day of looking like hobos. Notice how much taller I was at three years old. I'm the second oldest behind Wesley.

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The backsides. I won't put the bathtub picture up, but let's just say a bathtub with four filthy children=the blackest of water. So gross yet so awesome. 

 My Aunt Tricia's cat scan is tomorrow at 11:15, and I'm nervous. The weird thing is, I'm probably more nervous than she is. She's one of the strongest women I know, and she's such an example to me. If she can get through cancer three times, I surely can do anything. Did I pray enough? There's always room for improvement there. So many thoughts run through my head about how things used to be when I was younger. Trips to Branson, taking old timey photos, the Branson trip where Callie got pink eye, I got the stomach virus and got asthma (rough one), and the many foster babies my aunt and uncle have nurtured over the past several years. And who could forget Moe Bandy? We were groupies. Americana all the way, baby! But, the time we will remember most was when I peed my pants while playing hide and seek and then choked on cheese pizza and almost DIED.

All I ask is that tomorrow, you pray. A simple, honest prayer asking for a clear scan for my aunt that she may have peace of mind and a rested body. I will keep you posted.