When I was really little we went to visit my grandma in Utah. She lived in a little condo right on a little lake on a little golf courses. This year, there were new baby ducks! So, of course, I followed them around. I just wanted to hold one. Or keep it.
As I was chasing this chick, it faked left, I went right. Some sweet moves on both of our parts later, I had accidentally stepped on the duck. It died. Right there. It was horrific. Life changing. I cried. OH HOW I CRIED. I was deeply, DEEPLY traumatized.
And my family hasn’t let me forget it since. They make fun of me at any chance. They brought it up at my wedding! It’s been twenty plus years since that dark, dark day in my life, and they still won’t let me forget. But I’ll never forget. Someone make me a ribbon decal for my car for that.
So today Shelby, that poofilled brat, sent me a cute little forward that had pictures of bad parents. Here’s the link: http://thechive.com/2010/03/24/behind-every-great-child-is-a-great-parent-20-photos/. Cute, eh? You didn’t even click on it, huh? You’re a jerk.
Anyways, there was this little note with the email that said, “Which one is you?”
The last one. The last picture was me.
and now you know. I’m a duck killer.