So this happened, when I was just a baby. The era was the mid 1970's, and my mother, like most mom's, looked for ways to make her tasks of motherhood easier. My sister, three years older than me, was already on the scene when I arrived. Mothers out there can surely relate to the feeling of being a bit overworked that I am certain my mother had at that time, caring for a toddler and a new
baby and being a housewife. One of her purchases to help keep the new baby, me, corralled and easier to tote around, was a simple green backpack looking device with cottontail bunny on it. Of course, today's mothers have all sorts of fancy backpack contraptions that strap down their babies and then allow them to be toted along their backs. Back then things were much simpler. Thinking I was securely in the backpack, my mother trudged up the driveway to our Del Rio, Texas, home. Evidently, the backpack was not securely fastened, and out came baby, onto the gravel drive. I like to think it was a daring headfirst dive, a brave moment preparing me for later tumbles from horseback or while performing a dismount from a swing. Did I cry? No. Well, I don't recall, so I will say I did not. I survived the incident relatively unscathed. Now it makes for the most humorous moments. When someone asks in a sarcastic tone, "What's wrong with you? Were you dropped on your head?" With a twinkle in my eye, I can legitimately answer back, "Yes." The story always gets many laughs, and some of my friends would say, explains a think or two about my personality.
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