Jelly Shoes

When I was a kid, jelly shoes were a BIG THING. You were respected and admired if you had them. Somehow, whether as a hand-me-down or because it had been my birthday, I ended up with a pair of my own. Let me tell you, as a 6 year old, that is the absolute best thing that could've possibly happened to me!

The town we lived in at that time, Woodville, WI, was fairly small. It was the perfect place to grow up though, because we totally owned it! There wasn't a rock or crevice that hadn't been explored by my brother, sister, and I. Life was good! Plus, I was the pastor's kid, so I led a super privileged life. (Hahaha, totally kidding. Don't get me wrong, life was, as I mentioned, good...but jelly shoes were the most exciting thing to happen to my wardrobe and my life at that time.)

Anyway, one day, the three of us decided to do some more exploring. I got super dressed up for the occasion in some extravagant black and purple dress and my purple jellies (slang for jelly shoes. Keep up.), because why wouldn't I?

We headed up the street to the middle school so we could explore the creek (crick) some more. The creek (crick) ran all the way through town. It was super huge, like the ocean. As we were walking up and down the length of the creek (crick), we saw a log that had fallen across the water.

Perfect! A bridge!

With my brother in front, me in the middle, and my sister holding everything together at the back, we headed across.

It.
Was.
Awesome.

Keep in mind, I lived in landlocked Wisconsin. This was, at the time, the biggest body of water I could remember ever seeing. And we were walking OVER it at the deep part! We were so daring!

Now, it might have rained recently, or maybe it's just that the tree wasn't wide enough. Whatever the reason, my sister started to slip...

And obviously, she shoved me in so she could save her own life. And of course I fell right in, because jellies have absolutely ZERO grip or support.

I went down and under, my life flashed across my eyes quickly (because I was six, so there wasn't much to see), and then I came up, screaming bloody murder. I must've blocked out parts of the story because it was so traumatizing, but somehow I ended up back on dry land.

Minus one shoe.

We made it home after many tears had been shed, and I'm sure there was much limping, stumbling, and forgetting how to walk because I'm dramatic. I changed out of my gross, soggy clothes, and immediately forced/guilted my brother and sister to go back and help me find my beautiful, wonderful, lonely jelly.

No luck. I went back every day for about a week after, but no. It was gone forever.

Gone, but not forgotten.

Dumb Frogs

I realize I haven't posted anything in a LONG time. My apologies! I've decided to make up for it by posting a couple of short stories from my past.

Dumb Frogs

When I was a little girl, maybe 5, I was BIG on taking purses to church. I'm not even joking about this. There was one specific Sunday that I couldn't choose which purse to take...so I filled up 3 of them with an uncomfortable amount of trinkets and toys, just in case there was a lull in the service and I was called on for entertainment. I guess.

One Sunday night before church, I was playing outside with some of my friends, which is when I really noticed the tiny little frogs that would jump up against the building.
Where did they think they were going?
Didn't they know they were literally going nowhere?
Dumb frogs.
I don't know if I was trying to help them out or punish them, but I started catching as many as I could.  I'm not trying to brag, but I caught probably more frogs than has ever been caught in the history of 5 year old girls dressed in church clothes catching frogs. They were all put in my purse, naturally.

Then it was time for the service to start.

I went in, sat down in the second row from the front (that's the designated row for the pastor's family. Did I mention my dad was the pastor? He totally was.),  spread my dress out gracefully like the lady that I was, and sang along with the rest of the church. At one point during the service, I noticed my brand new pets weren't seeming to enjoy their new home and were trying to escape.
Dumb frogs.
Being a 5 year old, I didn't quite understand the fragility that comes with being a tiny frog and may have been just a little (a lot) rough while I was trying to put them back in their home.

Somehow, miracle of miracles, my mom didn't notice all the commotion going on at my end of the pew, which is truly extraordinary, because I was frantically smashing, grabbing, and chasing all those frogs so I could put them back where they belonged. What started off as an awesome idea and what could've been some cool pets quickly turned into a massacre.
Dumb frogs.
They were more trouble than they were worth, that's for sure!

After the service ended, I walked out, dumped the carcasses onto the ground, and didn't tell my mom anything about it for several years.
She wasn't surprised.