>Here’s a fact that explains a lot about me: I had four head injuries by the time I was eight. I believe all were concussions and that’s what I’ve been telling people for years, so I am sticking to my story even if my mom corrects me. In order:
Concussion #1: One day at preschool we were playing an unsafe game of duck-duck-goose. I was running around the circle (not sure if I was the chaser or chasee) and in my zeal to catch the person/get away, I ran head first into a table and knocked myself out.
Concussion #2: Another day at preschool, I was in the multipurpose room. Another kid hit me with a Big Wheel and I went flying and hit my head on the concrete floor. (Yes, this place is still in business to this day despite the high rate of head injuries!)
Concussion #3: This one I remember more clearly than the other two, so maybe I didn’t have a concussion after all… Anyway, I was riding my trike on the backyard patio and my neighbor was riding his bike with training wheels. We were playing a game called “Tow Truck,” which involved me parking my trike at the edge of the concrete steps that led to the basement door of our house. My neighbor would pull up on his bike and “tow” my trike away. (Yes, you can see the accident coming from a mile away, can’t you?) I saw sitting on my trike when he hit me too hard and I went tumbling down the stairs with my trike. When I landed, I felt a bit woozy, but I was all set to get up until I saw blood oozing out of my head. Then I became hysterical. At first, I did not want to go to the emergency room as I feared getting stitches, but in the end I didn’t need ‘em. I do have a tiny scar on my forehead to this day.
Concussion #4: I went ice skating at my friend’s 7th birthday party. I loved skating. However, after a quick rest, I got back on the smooth ice and my feet just went right out under me. The back of my head hit the ice. After bawling for a while, I decided I wanted to skate a bit more. Things seemed fine and dandy until I got home. My bubbe and grandpa were there with Sveta, their neighbor’s daughter. I was pretty pysched until I suddenly got dizzy, barfed, and fell down the stairs. This one was definitely a concussion. At the hospital, I ran into my friend’s aunt who fell at the party and broke her wrist.
There is a moral to this tale, my friends: if you do not want your kid to grow up and be ornery like me, I suggest that they avoid as many concussions as possible. (I swear that just writing about all the times I hit my head has given me a headache!)