Klutz

Growing up, I was a complete and utter klutz. It could be the blond hair stereotype, but I was completely 100% kultzy.

When I mean klutzy, I mean walk into posts and stop signs klutzy. Really!

I can remember when my mom told me about the time I was a little little kid, a toddler, and I would be dropped off at a daycare/kiddi-robics thing or something like that. When she'd come to pick me up one day, the organizer came up to her. She looked like she was in trouble as she came up to my mother, because she's a force to be reckoned with, as am I!!!

"Excuse me," she said, "Are you Dan's mother?"

"Yes," my mother replies.

"Well," the instructor says reluctantly. "He's run into a pole this afternoon..."

The funny thing is that this pole that she mentioned was the only singular pole in the middle of the room. I would hit it... everytime!

Another funny story is back from when we used to live with my grandparents on my father's side of the family. One evening after dinner we were playing catch. My aunt long bombs and I have to move backwards to keep an eye on it and catch it. I back up farther and farther and farther and then... BAM! i double over holding my head in pain and crying my eyes out. I look behind me and a stop sign wobbles. That's right, I've ran into a stop sign. The only reason I was crying was probably because of how embarrassed I was.

The funnier thing is that I still have the goose egg on the back of my head to prove it. I have a million and one bumps on my head to prove any and every fall, scrape, tumble, crash, bang, bruise, and scar that I've gotten from growing up. I guess my klutziness is probably what makes me unique...

Although, I wish it didn't hurt so much!