November 23rd, 2007
I was a weird kid
And that's a surprise to nobody who knows me today. On Thanksgiving Day, my Dad handed me this paper that he found stuffed in a box somewhere. It's written is really bad 'cursive' writing by a 3rd grader, and is hard to read, so If you can't quite make it out, here's what it says:
Myself
I am eight years old.
I go to school at Sasser
I am in the third grade.
I like to read books.
I like spelling tests.
I like to read Health and all my books.
I like school.
My House
My house is big.
It is too big for our small family.
There is a den, four bedrooms, two kitchens, dining room and a play room.
The windows are about to fall out. It is an old house. There is a leak in the roof.
There used to be a lot of them but my daddy patched them up.
My Pets
I have two dogs. One of them bites. The other dog has a sore on his leg.
Their names are Spot and Butch. Butch is the one that bites. He barks at cars.
He is our doorbell.
Now there's a back story to every line, but it's a pretty fair description of the life of a tow-headed little budding geek growing up in the middle of nowhere in south Georgia. We all got a good laugh out of it. It's going into a frame.
