Put some Neosporin on it
Nov. 16th, 2010 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bunchofgrapesOn my way home I was thinking about how glad I was that I grew up when I did. I mean, compared to today's kids, we skirted every kind of danger and came through relatively unscathed. Think about it. We rode bikes without helmets. We sat in the back of a pick up truck - on the wheel well, no less. Not only did we ride around in cars without being belted in, we stood up in the back or front seat and sat way, way back in the station wagon and made faces at the cars behind us. We played sports with have the protective equipment they have now. We sat too close to the TV and listened to loud music (ok, so I might be a little deaf now). We left the chicken out on the counter to thaw and ate things with raw eggs in them. And somehow, we survived. We are the toughest generation.
Seriously, though, I think they made our skulls thicker back then. I remember being knocked momentarily unconscious at least three times and knocked woozy at least twice. Happily, I can remember that. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm not really sure how I survived childhood without an ER visit or four. Maybe it's because my mom believed that Neosporin could cure any thing. Have a glass lamp fall from the ceiling and split your head open, take the kid to the hospital for stitches, right? No sir! Neosporin and a butterfly bandage. Slice your finger open with a steak knife and bleed all over the kitchen, take the kid to the hospital for stitches, right? No sir! Neosporin and a butterfly bandage. And a Donny Osmond album (hey, I was 9). Slice off your arm with a hacksaw, call an ambulance, right? No sir! Put some Neosporin and a slightly larger bandage on it. Okay, I might have made that part up but I'm sure if it had happened, my mother would have told me to put some Neosporin on it. She truly believed it could cure anything and you know, she might be right.
Seriously, though, I think they made our skulls thicker back then. I remember being knocked momentarily unconscious at least three times and knocked woozy at least twice. Happily, I can remember that. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm not really sure how I survived childhood without an ER visit or four. Maybe it's because my mom believed that Neosporin could cure any thing. Have a glass lamp fall from the ceiling and split your head open, take the kid to the hospital for stitches, right? No sir! Neosporin and a butterfly bandage. Slice your finger open with a steak knife and bleed all over the kitchen, take the kid to the hospital for stitches, right? No sir! Neosporin and a butterfly bandage. And a Donny Osmond album (hey, I was 9). Slice off your arm with a hacksaw, call an ambulance, right? No sir! Put some Neosporin and a slightly larger bandage on it. Okay, I might have made that part up but I'm sure if it had happened, my mother would have told me to put some Neosporin on it. She truly believed it could cure anything and you know, she might be right.
