The Wrong Day to Have a Facial

I adored my brother Trevor, growing up. If he said “jump”, I would jump. If he said, “climb that tree”, I would find a way to do it. While we lived on our farm, my Momma always told us that we only had each other, so we needed to get along and be friends. We were the best of friends.

We had to sell the farm when I was seven. We moved into a brand new subdivision where houses were being built all around us. There were muddy pits a few doors down on either side of our house waiting for new owners to purchase the lots. Being farm kids, we had a great time being outside and exploring what was around us.

We found a ton of tadpoles in a massive puddle on one of the vacant lots and decided to save them all in case the contractor started to build the house. Our garage became a toad sanctuary and eventually the street. Let’s just say it’s like a plague hit when they all grew up, and many of the toads found their fate as “pancakes” on the road!

The longer we lived in town, the more my brother found other boys that enjoyed playing road hockey as much as he did. Each summer night, the street was taken over with hockey nets and roller blades. Being that I loved hanging out with my brother but knowing he was occupied with his friends, I’d often find myself playing on our front lawn or around the area.

The same routine happened one night after school. The boys were busy playing road hockey like good little Canadians, and I was out tromping around in my rubber boots after a heavy rainfall. One of the boys missed the hockey net and the ball went flying into one of the vacant lots. Since the boys all had their roller blades on, Trevor asked me if I would go retrieve it for them. I told him it looked pretty muddy, but he said I was the best one to go get it since I had my boots on. He gave me that loving, sweet pretty please kind of look. Doing all things my brother asked, I ventured over to save the day for him.

As I sludged over to get the ball, my boots sunk in the mud. It took great effort to walk across the super wet, muddy lot. Eventually, I got to the ball and threw it back to the boys. There, the day was saved… or was it? As I stopped to throw the ball back to them, it seemed to be just enough time for my boots to sink deeper into the mud. I was stuck! I tried everything I could to get out without falling over. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t get out with all of the boys watching me. My face turned red and I couldn’t move!

I was debating climbing out of my boots when my Dad arrived home from work. Perfect! He came just in time to rescue me. He still had his work boots on, so he came over to pull me out and save the day. Daddy, my hero! I was so relieved. He got in behind me to hoist me up and pull me out. But instead, my boots stuck, he lost his balance, and sent me flying face first into the mud. Now not only was I embarrassed; I was madder than a wet hen! My hair at the time was almost down to my waist. I came up out of the mud, my face, hands, hair, and the whole front of my body was covered in mud. My Dad, brother, and the boys couldn’t help but burst into laughter as I peeled myself away from the disaster and heavily ran home. My Mom took one look at me, trying desperately to not let her laughter take hold of her, and helped me undress to get into the shower.

I swore from that day on that I was not going to listen to those boys again! They were on their own. Thankfully my love for my brother soon out won my anger, and I eventually started handling the teasing from my family, but I will say that it did take some time to get over that one.


I don’t quite get the whole mud facial thing. I guess it’s not quite my style.

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