Day Eighteen.

I am the cute one, they're just my brothers.

A story from my childhood. This is not going to be descriptive. My mind doesn't work that way.

I was young, maybe six or seven.

One afternoon, I was playing outside with my older brothers, PJ and Matt. I have no idea what we were doing exactly, just that we were along the side of the house, and I somehow ended up rolling around in the grass.

Not like a dog. Or, maybe, entirely like a dog. Like I said, I can't remember what we were doing.

Before I could get up, PJ ran me over with his 10 speed.

Guys, are you laughing right now? Please know that I am laughing while I write this.

But in the that moment, I was paralyzed. I immediately started crying and screaming for my mother. I was too scared to move, and I'm pretty sure neither of my brothers came over to see if I was okay.

Or maybe they did.

The next thing I remember is being in the bath tub, a mere 20 minutes (or maybe two hours) later, with gauze wrapped around my stomach. No, I wasn't bleeding. But you remember how a band-aid would make everything feel better? Apparently, that's how I felt about this gauze.

I was still crying. And thinking that my insides were ruined forever.

I survived (obviously) and since I was the 3rd child, my parents did not feel the need to rush me to the hospital, in fear of something horribly wrong. Had this been PJ (their first born), I assume they would have called 911 and insisted he was seen by a doctor right away.

Being a 3rd child means they wrapped some gauze on me and hoped I would just go to bed.

Or maybe, they were really concerned. I don't remember.