Childhood Memories and Broken Toes

First of all, I will say that I tried making the Chicken Green Chili recipe for the first time on my own last night, and it turned out incredibly well. I did have to make a couple of phone calls to my parents to clarify the directions (yes, it is actually as easy as the recipe says). I had a bunch of friends over to my house and enjoyed a little fall themed evening with soup and fall scented candles, and little paper light up pumpkin lanterns. And of course, because I am terrible at taking pictures, I completely forgot to take pictures of either the cooking process or my friends enjoying the feast... Go figure!

Anyway onto the post for today. Funniest childhood memory...
There are a lot of memories that I have from my childhood that are funny, and there are even more stories that my mom tells that are even funnier. But I settled on this story because I know for sure it is a memory I have and not a story that has been told too many times.

Totally irrelevant from the story; my little brother and I sitting in Rosa Parks' seat on her bus (Henry Ford Museum)

When I was probably 13 or 14 my little brother and I decided to play one-on-one soccer in our front yard. There are two reasons this was a bad idea...
1) Even though my brother is 4 years younger than me he was and is a much better athlete and soccer player than me
2) We agreed to play "brazilian style" as in barefoot.

This is a good place to mention that both of my parents are doctors. Something that I took for granted as a reckless child. Anyway, my dad was sitting on the front porch and warned us that if someone got hurt from playing without shoes on he would not help us.

And lo and behold, I kicked the ball when it was up against my brother's leg and I broke my toe. It was my pinky toe, which means you can do very little about it being broken. And let's just say my dad was true to his words. I was able to get my dad to look at it for long enough to determine that it was probably broken. And after much cajoling he told me that the only thing I could do was ice it and tape it up. But he wouldn't tape it up for me, I think is exact words were something along the lines of "I told you I wouldn't help you. When your mom gets home you can ask her nicely to tape it up for you."

I love this story because I think it perfectly depicts growing up with doctor parents.

Dad, little bro, and me at Burro Days in Fairplay, CO