So essentially, I'm a smartass.  (Shocker, right?)  A smartass and a storyteller.  I have probably been these things since I
learned to talk, spinning some facetious yarn about how binkies are actually
the detached udders of cows.  I also have
three brothers.   Therefore, as with many
children in large families, I grew up feeding those brothers lines of crap and
seeing how much they’d buy.   What?  It’s fun! 
A healthy family activity.   

However, call it fate or karma or what have you, I am now
saddled with a child who puts an awful lot of emphasis on personal empirical
knowledge.  For example, the lovely
Motherbumper one time told a story about her child playing with a ratchet gun (without
a bit) and Motherbumper told said child that if she unscrewed her belly button
her butt would fall off.

This is exactly the type of thing I would have reveled in
telling my brothers!

But, for a long time, I couldn't (and maybe still can't) say
anything like that to Chance… because he would try to unscrew his belly
button.  Just to see if his butt would
fall off.  See, he seems to have the
unfortunate combination of intense curiosity and a certain lack of
self-preservation.  When he was younger I often caught him trying to touch the
thing that I just told him was hot.  If I
explained the cause and effect of hitting the wrong end of his spoon, next
thing I knew he'd be flinging food in the air.  He had to test everything.  By the time he was ready for warnings about
electric outlets I knew to intentionally leave out any mention of forks.

I couldn’t figure out where this… I don't even know what
to call it… scientific spirit? foolhardiness? …came from.  Regardless of the fact that my brothers and I told
each other great big whoppers we knew better than to try them out.  I mean, what if one of those stories were
actually true?  When my older brother
would stick his tongue on a battery and pretend to be electrocuted… did I ever
test that?  HELL no!  Did my youngest brother really think that if
he didn't wear his underwear his penis would fall off and he'd become a
girl?  I don't know, but I do know he
started wearing underwear again. 

Anyway, you can see my dilemma… with Chance's million
questions (and trust me, he has a LOT of questions) sometimes a smartass story is just burning to get out.  But I can't!  Given his nature I just need to suppress my facetious
instincts until (hopefully) he grows out of testing everything.  Which I hope is soon.  I still can't figure out where this came from;
I mean, in my family, I admit, we're all a little detrimentally creative at
times but we're still healthily self-protective about bodily harm.

So one day I'm discussing (complaining about) this aspect of
Chance with my mom and she says, "Yeah, I was like that.  I'd scratch myself because I thought blood was

*blink blink blink*

Thanks Mom!     

                     – the weirdgirl