Shooting the bull.
Certainly we have all had our moments of shooting the bull with a sibling or friend but for my family that literally meant shooting the bull with BB guns. I suppose I had it coming when I rounded the corner into the barn and the bull tried to climb the gate to kill me. He was pissed and scared the holy beejeebus out of me. Uncle Randy happened to be there and quickly got him under control with a two by four to the head.
Haystack Forts
Growing up on a farm we of course had haystacks everywhere and while we were sternly advised not to do so me and Jeremy always made awesome forts inside them. A piece of plywood here and some two by fours there to hold the weight of the "ceiling" and we were good to go and had the perfect place to hide when it was time for chores. Dani enjoyed these with us a little bit but poor Charlie with his hay-fever didn't join in the fun. So we always had a place to hide from him. As it turns out we all discovered that the man who yelled at us constantly not to make them, we call him Dad, did exactly the same thing when he was a kid.
This was information that we all were made aware of at my uncles funeral. I don't even want to hear about it Dad, you should have been out there giving us building pointers as far as I am concerned!
Making Mindy look silly on Sundays during sacrament meeting.
She loved to have her back scratched so if there were two siblings next to her one of us would scratch her back while the other one methodically ratted her hair small strand by small strand. She had long thick hair so it looked utterly ridiculous to have it long and somewhat curly with a huge snarl that was at least eight inches wide at the bottom and easily five inches high. You would think she would have learned not to let us do this. I guess she just liked her back scratched too much.
Killing the stupid rooster.
While unintentional I didn't like that little bugger so I was not and still am not at all sorry for killing it.
Each day we would be sent to gather the eggs. The moment you opened the chicken coop that stupid rooster would come after you and peck you to pieces. I had completely had it with him one day and when he came I booted him a little too hard, he hit the wall and slid down and didn't move again. I was probably about 12 or maybe 13 years old then. That night Mom had gone out to check for more eggs and I will never forget her words. "That damn rooster finally died!" I just kept my mouth shut. They know now that it was me. I believe they found out about a year ago.
I feel totally safe now letting the cat out of the bag so to speak regarding my naughtiness as a kid since the statute of limitations has passed on all my offenses. That and I can now out run my parents. Well maybe not Dad since he still has the energy of a 25 year old. Mom, just don't share this with Dad because I don't want him taking his ape like hand to the top of my head to "turn me around" to face the consequences.
