Butterscotch Castles

Do you ever wonder what life will be like for kiddos in the future? Yeah, me neither.

Ok, not really. I do wonder and honestly it gives me the heebie jeebies when I really think about. I'm not talking about how much they'll pay in gas or if they'll have to wear SPF 175 to even walk outside. Just regular, everyday kid stuff. My hypothetical kids will never have the kind of childhood I had growing up. Whether that's good or bad, I'm not certain.

After my last post I began reminiscing about what my childhood was really like. It all started with what I was doing the day of the Oklahoma City Bombing and from there my mind was flooded with memories.

Sidenote: Apparently my memory of that fateful day was not as sharp as I thought; after talking with my mom she told me my sister and I had a doctors appointment at 9:30 am that morning. She was originally going to run downtown first to pay the OG&E bill (clearly pre-online bill pay days, well pre online days really) but was running late and decided she'd pay it later, which likely saved her life.

But I digress. Back to the awesomeness of growing up on a cul de sac in northwest Oklahoma City.

As I mentioned before, I went to Harvest Hills Elementary which meant one thing...I was sheltered. Every Friday morning we'd kick off the day singing about Butterscotch Castles and Laundry Land (a place where the occasional sock would disappear to). To all of my fellow Hawks out there, you know it's true.

But the summers were the best and in great part to my dear old pal, Charlie. Charlie was my neighbor from kindergarten until after we graduated high school. When my family moved in right next door it took some time for him to realize that this 5 year old didn't have cooties and we could be friends. But after that we were best buds.

I have Charlie to thank for most of the trouble I got in during those early years. Like the time we dug that 6 foot hole in his backyard, covered it with his mom's new floor mats, then convinced the weird kid from around the corner to jump on the mat. Or when we learned what hairspray and a lighter would do to a shoe. Or the time we built a zip line around his backyard from the giant tree to the trampoline to the jungle gym which ultimately ended in the demise of that tree. Guess it wasn't as strong as we thought.

I remember the first time I said "damn it" Charlie threatened to tell my dad and I was terrified. I pulled weeds out of his mom's garden (his least favorite chore) for weeks to keep his lips sealed.

I also have Charlie to thank for "teaching" me about the "birds and the bees" when I was in third grade. My mom thanks him, too. A few days following my little learning session I went into my parents' room where she was curling her hair and getting ready for my dad to come home from a long business trip. I matter-of-factly stated "you're going to have sex, aren't you?" Thanks for that one, old pal.

Playing football with Barry Sanders

When school was out, we spent our summers outside from sun up until sun down. Everyone did. (Unless, of course, we were playing Nintendo. Not Super, not Nintendo 64, just Nintendo. You remember - the one that had the controller with only two buttons.) And it was nothing on those hot summer days for us to ride our bikes or walk down to the 7/11 most afternoons for a Slurpee. My hypothetical kids will NEVER get to do that. And do you know why? Because I watch way too much Law and Order: SVU, that's why.

But all in all my childhood was pretty picturesque. I could never win a show like American Idol for two reasons: 1) Most would rather hear a cat getting it's tail pulled than to hear me sing and 2.) I don't have a tragic childhood to fall back on to make me more interesting. Unless you consider singing about Butterscotch Castles tragic. Some do.