When I was nine, my mom forced my older brother to take me with him while he was hanging out with his friends and I remember being SO excited that I was hanging out with the cool kids.

We were out wandering around the neighborhood when we came to this part of a street that was blocked off because it had just gotten fresh cement.

My brother’s friend stepped down and noted that the cement was dry and said that I could be the FIRST person in the group to walk on it.

I was so excited that they would let me have that honor, so I proudly stepped forward and immediately felt my shoe sink into wet cement because it turned out that my brother’s friend hadn’t actually stepped down and was just messing with me.

Any NORMAL person would have lifted their foot and stepped back, but I was a standard-issue idiot child, so I panicked and proceeded to run DIAGONALLY across the entirety of the wet cement.

Once I made it to dry cement, I looked back and saw my tiny footprint trail across the hypotenuse and became paranoid that police would use forensics to track me down, so I ran to a gas station and threw my shoes in the dumpster and then went home where I proceeded to blame my missing shoes on our dog because I clearly wasn’t just an idiot but also a complete monster.

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@Alice
My mother left me in the brand new car while she ran into the store "for just a minute" (hey, it was the 60s). The brand new car had lots of things to entertain me, including a button on the dash, and when the button popped out it had a hot glowy thing on the other end. I spent the time making interesting marks on the driver seat until she came back.
I'm probably why they don't put cigarette lighters in cars anymore.

@ScottSoCal 🤣🤣 you have brought back so many similar memories of doing reckless stuff as a child, but I don’t want to be the kind of person who’s trying to be a one upper, so let me know whenever you want to hear my own car cigarette lighter story or the one about the melted crayons or the one about the Publisher’s Clearing House stickers.

@Alice
I love stories like that. My cousin, who is now a very prim and proper psychoanalyst, was in church one Sunday when she was about 3 years old. During prayer time, when the chapel was quiet as a tomb, she toddled to the end of the pew, spread her legs and peed. Everyone heard it. When she was done, she looked down and said "Sum'bitch look what I done!"

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