Dear Reader,

You are probably wondering why my memoir is called Stop!  Wait a Minute: True Stories from my Childhood Where I Failed to Think Things Through.  If you were anything like me when I was younger, then you made some questionable decisions, like leaving for a two week vacation without telling your teacher or trying to open a locked window (sorry mom).  While these moments ended in a complete disaster, they ultimately taught me that mistakes can teach you the most valuable lessons. Yes, I missed out on a lot of recess (as a punishment) and yes I had to watch a doctor sew together a massive crater in my leg .  But I ultimately walked away from these experiences learning to...well, think before I act.

Window Accident

“ Brrmm, Brrm!!”  Finally. I welcomed the familiar sound of the school bus engine roaring at a standstill as I exited the bus.  I took in my bus driver’s enlarged face and the speedy vibration of the handrail as I made my quick get away down the steps.  The fresh air and the warm sun greeted me immediately.

“Aww,” I muttered to myself.  I was relieved. I was done. I was... ready to go home!  Little did I know, home was not ready for me.

As I walked up the wide gray concrete steps with my sister by my side, I began to unzip my overstuffed bag.  My house looked exactly the way we left it in the morning. It was the same familiar white block I called home.  As I took the final step onto the porch, I noticed how lifeless it had seemed. My hand began to feel through the pillow of papers that were inside of my bag.  I was desperately searching for my savior that was hanging on a string. All my fingers kept feeling were pieces of crumpled up paper.

Once I reached the porch, I dropped my book bag.  

“Quita,” I said irritated, “Do you have your house key?”

“No Shawnt.  I thought you had your house key.”  I shook my head as I began to unstuff my book bag like a grocery bag.

“I thought I did too,” I said in an exasperated tone.

“Lets see if the window is open,” suggested my sister.  We both peered through the window getting a quick glimpse of our empty house.  Together, we put both of our hands on one of the latches and tried to lift the window.  I felt the force of a heavy table pushing down on me.

“Shoot! It’s locked,” noted Quita.

“Keep pushing!”  I ordered. Quita and I tried to lift the latches again.  We kept pushing, and pushing, and... BAM! As you can imagine, Quita and I were both frightened by this experience.  Especially since I had a deep gape the size of a quarter on my leg. “You’re going to need stitches,” explained my mom when she finally returned home.  If only I would of thought twice about trying to open something that was meant to stay closed. I could of saved my mom a trip to the hospital and I could have prevented my thigh from becoming a sewing project.