Stupid things little kids do

Still...... to this day


ya gotta wonder if he got them all.



I used to hide M&Ms inside the outlet that was lose in my bedroom.
I thought the electricity would keep them from melting.

Never worked.

Many times, I would lick up the remains..

shewolf

electricity doesn't keep m&m's from melting, CO2 does.

My brother and I used to pour rubbing alcohol on the cenemt floor of the basement and light it on fire. The flame was blue or invisible. If you let the stuff sit too long, it would cease to be flammable.

My sister and I used to play house.

We would start by saying, "Let's pretend we're sisters and..."

If you soak a cotton ball in nail polish remover, then set it on fire, it burns a really long time. Just try to keep the cotton in the ashtray.

I used to play with the mercury my brothers brought home from the bridge connections on the railway tracks.

Paper burns really good too. Just try to keep the paper in the bathroom sink.

Plastic milk jugs burn cool too,

It'a amazing that you all lived through your childhood.








I think I may have been a boring kid....


Maybe I just blocked it out. Yeah, that's it.
I'll see if anything comes back to me.

Littlek and I grew up back when parents didn't check what you were doing every five seconds, and wanting to share learning experiences with you and stuff.

We had plenty of time to dare each other to drink the lead based pant from a paint by number set of the Sistine Chapel we found in the neighbors trash.

I'm not that young, Chai!

But now that I think about it, my much older brothers were terrors. And my Mother was so relieved that I was a girl. I think she did keep me near...

Nevermind me, continue on... I love these stories!

I grew up before the era of Health and Safety as well, Chai.

When I was about seven or so, our gang used to club together and buy loads of various fireworks, which were handed over in a big brown paper bag.

The favourites were penny bangers, threepenny cannons (just like penny bangers, but fatter, more sturdy and therefore much louder) and rockets.

We'd all go to the "rec" (recreation grounds) and set them off. The rockets would be placed with the stick in an old glass milk bottle and touchpaper lit.
It would whoosh up into the air....and that was it...no big bang or pretty colours, just a whoosh.

The bangers were much more fun, as we would find various places to lob them while the fuse was fizzing away.

One time, we found a humongous dog poo (Mastiff/Elephant cross?) and decided to see what would happen if a banger went off in it.
One was carefully inserted so that just the blue fusey bit was sticking out, and then it was lit.
We all ran to a safe distance and waited. The main fizzy bit of the fuse eventually started up....and then, nothing.
We waited a good thirty seconds and, as all had gone quiet, my mate Donald Palmer (nicknamed Peasmould, for some strange reason) slowly approached the banger in order to see if it could be re-lit.
He'd just got his face right up close when a sort of "crump" noise happened, and he fell backwards, spitting and swearing.

His face, neck and chest were covered with at least a few hundred tiny but perfectly formed, little pointy flecks of poo, each one the same "piped icing" shape as what you would see round the edge of a wedding cake, except his were all brown.

Now, Peasmould wore "National Health" (free) glasses, the cheap ones with wire frames. When he carefully removed them, he had two clean bits on his face, exactly the same shape as the lenses.
He was also one of those kids who never ever held his mouth closed, and that was why he was spitting.

The grand finale came when we let off the last rocket, but just to add a bit of interest, we put the empty brown paper bag over the top before we lit the fuse.


The fuse fizzed, the rocket then ignited proper, and very slowly rose to a height of about ten feet, and then KAAABOOOOOM!

A very satisfying experiment, we all agreed.

I wanted to see what would burn too. Set fire to the bathroom. Managed to get the fire out. The shower curtain had melted to the bathroom wall. A bunch of towels were gone. The house was filled with smoke. I called my mother to tell her what happened. She told me not to tell my father. Like he wouldn't notice the smoke and the melted shower curtain.

I got my head stuck between the bars of the window grating. That was an adventure in vasoline.

I once got lost in a cornfield. I was too short too see over the corn. Didn't know where I was. The adults kept yelling for me to make noise and stay still. I kept running around.

Selling firecrackers to 7 year olds. See, that's what we need more of.

Great poo story.

Roberta, I think my brother got his head caught in something, I'll have to try to remember. It'll probably come to me at 3am.

Oh wait, he didn't get his head caught. He took a drinking glass and sucked it to his face, walking around with it around his mouth and chin for, oh, I don't know, a long time. When he took it off, he'd broken all the blood vessels, and had to walk around with this red ring around his face for I think days, if not a couple weeks.

My favorite rainy day pastime was going in my parents' bathroom, putting the stopper in the sink, and mixing up small amounts of everything I could find in their medicine cabinet. Except the pills, of course. But talcum powder, mouthwash, cologne, toothpaste, Vicks, and a couple dozen other things all went into the sink. I'd stir them together with the wrong end of the toothbrush.

Then came the fun part.

I'd call my sister and tell her what I'd done. When she finished laughing, we'd call our obnoxious little brother and dare him to eat some of it. He never could resist a dare.

My step father had serious issues with his mother. He browbeat and picked at her endlessly. The animosity communicated itself to me and my siblings. Despite the fact the old woman befriended me, I felt a strange sort of outrage toward her one day. I went into the outhouse, which had a cotton mattress, bent in half, leaning against the inside wall. I touched a match to the frizzy strands that showed through a hole in the outer covering of it, until a nice little flame burned on top of the cotton. Conscience then took hold of me, reminding me of the pleasant breakfasts we had together, while everyone else still slept. Chastened, I put the fire out and went about my other business of playing in the apricot trees that grew in the vacant lot next door. Imagine my surprise a couple of hours (I'm guessing the time) later, and the toilet and adjoining shed fully ablaze and the firetruck sirens filling the air. They hosed it out, cautioning one another to not fall in, but the whole works was a total loss. I kept my guilt concealed for almost forty years before confiding in any family members. I was by then beyond the paddling stage.

I was a perfect child; I didn't do stupid things until I bacame an adult.

I once fell down a coal chute. I just wanted to see where all that coal was going.

I kept jumping off higher and higher spots (I was a gymnast). I considered jumping off the roof of the porch, but decided against it.

I think I mentioned this on another thread like this. One long summer day the kids of our family and the kids of another family spent a ridiculous number of hours seeing how many grapes we could stuff in our mouths. I think the largest number was 19. We stuffed and laughed..... Now I freak out when I see kids eating grapes one at a time without cutting them first.

I was in the sandbox making sandpies. The kid next to me was doing the same. I made a very nice looking pie and suggested that he taste it. Hey, it's a pie. Pies are food. He tasted it and started screaming. His mother came over. My mother came over. I got yelled at. He calmed down. The parents drifted away.

I dug down into the sandbox where the sand is dark and moist. I made another sandpie. I told the kid to try this one. This one was chocolate. The moron tried it. I got in a lot of trouble. But I never forgot it, not because of the trouble I got into but because I think there was inkling in my child brain that some folks were a lot less smart than others.

We lived in a small country town of around 1500 people when we were growing up, so my parents were never really worried if we were off some where. My friends and I spent several weekend digging a cave in the sandy soil of the creek that ran through town. real igloo shape. tunnell 5 or 6 ft long we hollowed out a room at the end and did kid stuff. at one point we thought maybe there wasnt enough air so we made a breather hole in the roof of the room with a sharp stick.

I often wonder if it had collapsed would they have ever found us.

Oh! and we made a waterslide out of old corregated Iron in the back yard. Leaned the iron on a stack of drums and timber and put the sprinkler on it. Mum had a fit when she came out. How we didnt slice ourselves up I will never know cause the iron would have had nail holes all over it.

I was talking to some blokes who are involved in a youth group last year about insurance and legalities and the comment was passed that despite all the education and rules and legislation they have to follow kids still get hurt. Its part and parcell of being a kid. Taking risks, learning consequences that kind of stuff.