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My parents bought fishsticks for dinner all the time because my two older sisters LOVED them. I HATED them so I would throw them behind the stove. "No one will find them there! " I would think to myself. And then my parents would be doing the weekly cleaning and find them. "WHO PUT THESE FISHSTICKS BEHIND THE STOVE?!?!?! Fishsticks do not grow on trees! Now, who did this?!?!" Of course, I would innocently reply, "Not me. I don't know who did it."
It was a vicious cycle until my parents figured it out and stopped buying fishsticks.
Once I swallowed a rock from a set of polished stones. I wanted to see what rocks tasted like, so I put it in my mouth. I was about to spit it out, when it slipped down my throat. I was so scared I didn't tell my parents. And then I just sort of forgot about it until my dad was looking for it.
Oooh and I went through this stage where I to see if I could turn myself into a reptile, so I kept sticking my tongue out "to breathe." Then one day, I was doing it on the school bus while looking out the window. There's this guy in his car making faces back at me. That curbed that habit.
(I've got bunches of stories like this - I was *quite* the child!)
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