I have been pretty serious in my last few post! This week, I am going to keep it light-hearted and hopefully kind of funny.

At hour house we were super busy. We being me and my two brothers. I have an older (Sam) and younger (Matt). That leaves me as the dreaded middle child. Ha! Daddy worked forty plus hours a week, and we were very active kids. We weren’t home much, and when we were, we some times had chores. And chores had to be done before we could play.

Early one Saturday morning, my daddy woke us up because we are normally late sleepers. Or at least Sam and I were. Matt was still pretty young, and he tended to be an early riser. I’d wake up some mornings and find him eating carrots and ranch dressing for breakfast. Who does that? Again, back to this early day, Sam and I had to mow the yard, while Matt munched on his snack enjoying the air conditioner. So Sam and I headed outside to mow the yard. We noticed the grass was still a bit damp and I just knew this was going to be exactly what I needed to get out of mowing the yard. WRONG! When I expressed to Daddy that the yard was still wet, he said that I could wait to mow, but I couldn’t go to the pool till the yard was mowed. Crap! So I marched myself right back outside and started the ole push mower.

I had to mow the front and part of the side yard. Sam had to mow the back yard and the bank of our creek that ran along the side of the house. I’m mowing, living in my own world, and probably sulking that I am having to do this. Suddenly I hear Sam yelling, “Kelly, go get Daddy!” I see him hobbling to the porch and I think he must have just twisted his ankle. He is fine. He is walking, so he can’t be hurt that bad. WRONG! When he stepped onto the porch, the top of his shoe was flopping up and down. All I could see was blood. I ran inside and yelled, “Daddy! Sam is hurt! He’s bleeding!” I never saw Daddy move so fast in my life. He ran straight out the house and slung the screen door open so hard it hit the side of the house. You see, what happened, was, Sam was mowing the bank of the creek. He slipped and when he did, his foot went under the mower.

I was in shock but I wanted to see what Sam did to his foot. I walked outside and needless to say it was gross! I saw a bloody sock with a big hole in it. When I looked closer, I could see his big toe, no toe, then another toe. I started screaming, “He’s missing a toe! He cut his toe off!” I screamed this a hundred times. I started crying, hyperventilating, and flailing my arms like a bird. I looked like a crazy person. By the way I was acting, you would have thought Sam cut his leg off. Thank goodness Dottie (Daddy’s girlfriend, now wife) was there. She came outside, and had to teach me how to breath again. I remember telling her that he cut off one of his toes, but she insisted I was wrong and Sam would be fine.

In the midst of all the craziness, Daddy took Sam to the hospital. He ran every stop sign and light on his way there. He even had a cop trying to pull him over. Daddy wasn’t stopping for anything. He had the air blowing full blast, talking to Sam, and trying to keep him from passing out. He made it to the emergency room and when the cop pulled in behind, the cop told him that next time he needed to call 911.

Matt and I are home with Dottie and she gets a call from Daddy. He asked her to go find Sam’s toe. Gross! I can’t even imagine having to do that. I’d probably throw up. She calls my uncle and ask him to come over to help her. They find it and take it to the hospital to see if they can reattach it. The toe couldn’t be saved, so Sam lost the toe beside his big toe and a little bit of his big toe.

Matt and I were staying with our cousin at her house but we did get to go see Sam later that night. He already had friends coming to visit. Two particular, Drew and John. They were his best friends. We were all talking to him, and then his friends started singing, “This little piggy went to the market, this little piggy got cut off!” OK! That is so funny, but at the time, it made me so mad. Who knows why! I guess I just felt bad for my brother and they were just making fun of him. Of course Sam didn’t care, he was laughing about it.

So that’s the story! 9 toes or eight in a half. You decide.

Leave a comment, if you remember a funny childhood memory!