You’ve got to be kidding

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Oh! You kid

We grew up in a crazy household with dogs, birds, and floods of kids running through our massive backyard that led to the woods and forts and rope swings.

My six girl cousins and I explored the lazy stream at the bottom of the garden; we made small forts in the redwood tree stumps, had picnics and picked wild flowers to adorn the stumps. The boys in our neighborhood were all about Tarzan yells on swings and developing a system of swings over the gully. At one point, there were five swings that interconnected from one massive tree branch to another. Through the years, there were a series of broken arms and sprained wrists.

At one time, the gang of eight neighbor boys was interested in damming up our steam to make a huge pool. Boys covered in mud was a theme for a month. My brothers had to disrobe in the garden and hose down before they could enter the house.

They loved making slingshots from rubber bands and branches and eventually shot small birds – which inspired a long series bird bar-b-cues.

One afternoon, a bunch of us were playing kickball on the front lawn and we heard a cacophony of sirens approaching. Were the cops coming? Lickety-split, three, huge, red, fire engines pulled to our drive way and men spilled out and ran towards our woods.

Apparently, the chefs had enjoyed a “flight of birds” and someone left the fire going…which ignited the pile of branches… which started a small fire.

For a month, the woods were “off limits” for the boys. Meanwhile, we girls had a ball exploring the boy’s forts and “trespassing” on their turf.

Oh, happy days!

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Childhood Revisited

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