Oh goodness, it’s Thursday already. Almost Friday, actually. I guess we Rum Creeters are getting worse and worse at this being on time thing. So let’s pretend it’s Wednesday, shall we? I know you all just want it to be Hump Day again, anyway.
Something to look forward to in next week’s post, if all goes according to plan: I’m going to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince at a midnight showing. Oh huzzah and hooray. (That’s not meant to be sarcastic, I just find it’s more fun to say it without much feeling.)
As for this week’s Wednesday post, I think my topic will be family ties. (Not the television show, although I did get the idea because I’m peripherally watching an episode of it right now.)
I’ve been very lucky in that I had a great childhood with a close and loving family.
Even when I’ve been frustrated with my parents or siblings (I was incredibly overdramatic as a little kid, if you can believe it, so the empty threats to run away were plentiful) I never went through an “I hate my family and wish my parents would just leave me alone” phase in junior high or high school. I’ve always loved my family, and even liked them. I consider them my friends. I think we’re really neat people, and I wouldn’t trade my childhood for anyone’s.
I guess I sometimes forget just how rare that is.
Of course, being the youngest I’ve caught the tail end of our family growing up. So I never saw the expansion of one kid, to two, to three, to four. I was just dropped there in the thick of it. But I saw the dwindling from four, to three, to two, to me.
And now even this chick is leaving the roost. (I suppose you could say I already have, since I’ve been in college; but let’s face it, I like visiting my parents on the weekend.)
At least I convinced my parents to get a dog.