Memories

So I just got off the phone with Erynn (the sister at BYU in Provo), and we were talking about sanity and the relativity (or relatives) thereof. More specifically when I actually became less than sane. I blame my younger siblings, but upon thinking about it, perhaps I was never quite sane. Here are a couple of memories that come to mind...

Shortly after Rachel was born, I was feeling neglected. I'd had my parents to myself for 3 and 1/2 years and didn't care to share. So I decided one night, after bed, that I wanted some attention and the way to get it was to fall out of bed...or rather make my parents think I fell out of bed. So, I quietly got out of bed and then jumped loudly on the floor to make a loud thump sound, quickly sat on the floor and started screaming my little head off. Sure enough my parents came running and when they asked what happened, I whimpered a little and said, "I fell out of bed." Cuddling and petting occurred for a short period of time before my dad, heartlessly I felt at the time, told me I was fine and to go back to bed.

The one and only time I went to daycare. My parents say they took me the day before, and I loved it. I was running around, playing and bossing the other kids around (see I've always been bossy), just generally having fun. The next day was a different story (and the one I really remember). My mom dropped me off. As soon as she left I started crying. Everyone ignored me. The other kids were watching He-Man. Apparently I was only there for about 30 minutes before my dad came to get me, but it seemed a lot longer than that. To this day, I have an irrational hatred for He-Man.

I'm sure there are other examples of my insanity or perhaps lack of sanity is a better phrase, but I can't remember them...or I don't want to share them. Either way, sanity is certainly relative. My relatives prove it!