Losing my teeth in a caramel apple and explosive sandbox volcanoes

Do you ever think back on your childhood and wonder why you remember some things?

Although I lived in 3 different houses in my growing up years, one of the homes in particular comes to mind when I think of my childhood home. We moved there before I was old enough to remember, and we moved away when I was about 10.

It was a cute little 2 story with a grassy front yard, a fenced in backyard, a swing set, a sandbox and a dog kennel with our obnoxious dog, Axel (yes, for the Guns 'n Roses Axel), who was forever sniffing my butt every time I went outside.

I have so many fond memories of our time in that home (the constant butt sniffing not being one of those...).

Sitting on my front porch in the summertime offering the mailman a bite of my lime popsicle.

Coming *this* close to getting my little brother to eat a dog turd because I told him it was a tootsie roll.

Making the conscious choice to lock the door to my room, step outside of it, and pull the door closed, bidding all my toys farewell because of my brilliant plan to tell my dad that I couldn't clean my room because I was locked out of it. I may go the rest of my childhood without my toys, but if it meant I didn't have to clean it, it was worth it all. The plan got shot to crap the moment my dad was all, "What the hell!" and picked the lock with a pen. And I thought it was such a brilliant plan...

Watching in disbelief as my little brother - a toddler at the time - crawled under the table and the tried to stand up, hitting his head and then yelling, "Shit!"

Waking inside my house on my birthday to find a yellow brick road made of construction paper with clues about little munchkins waiting for me in the basement, leading to a surprise Wizard of Oz birthday party.

Losing my front teeth in a caramel apple when I went over to the neighbor kid's house to play.

Learning how to play pacman on our ginormous new computer. It was super high tech with a brown screen and orange lettering.

Watching ET in the basement with my family for the first time, and covering my eyes during the part at the end where ET is in all those tubey things and looks all powdery and chalky.

Using masking tape to put prices on all my toys, pretending I had my own store.

Sitting on the sidewalk in front of my house capturing ants with a shovel and putting them in buckets, naming each and every one.

Making volcanoes in the sandbox with a vinegar concoction of some kind.

When we travel back to the town we used to live in, we drive by our old house. It looks the same, but now it's gray instead of black and white. And it seems smaller. The neighbors who lived in the green house next door are still there. They told us people moved in who were selling crack or some other illegal drug.

Frickin' idiots.

Our family was never made of money, but my parents sure did a heck of a lot of things to make sure we had a buttload of fun memories to look back on.

And that, to me, is one of the things I get most excited about when it comes to being a parent. Now it's my turn to teach my kid all sorts of fun stuff like how to start a rock collection, how to make volcanoes in your back yard, and how to get out of cleaning your room for 3 minutes. There's so much to look forward to!

This post is a part of Writer's Workshop, hosted by Mama Kat over at Mama's Losin' It