😕

This Post Has Nothing To Do With These Cuties.

One day, I was playing with my friend Karen in the woods when I stepped on one of the old nails left over from Camp Shanks, broken-down wooden World War II barracks.

Imagine Lots of These 2 x 4’s, All Over the Ground. We Played There. 🙂

It came out the top of my foot, through my sneaker.

Ouch.

It hurt a LOT.  We were pretty far away from home.  Karen ran to get Mr. B., a friend’s dad we knew who lived nearby.  He came up into the woods and picked me up and carried me all the way back home.  I was crying a lot of the way.

My dad pulled the nail out using pliers, and then my mom took me to the doctor for a tetanus shot (you can get tetanus from any outdoors puncture wound–not just from rusty metal).
 

***

The next time I stepped on a Camp Shanks nail, it hurt a lot, too, but that time, I hopped home myself by leaning on my friend Karen to help me.  I didn’t need another tetanus shot, because the first one was still good.
 

***

The next time I stepped on a Camp Shanks nail, I didn’t even know it.  When I came home that day from playing and took off my sneaker, the bottom of my sock was rust-colored with blood, and a littler spot on the top was rusty, too, where the nail had poked out.  I didn’t even bother to tell my parents that time.
 

***

No one else I knew ever stepped on a nail.
 

I have concluded that my feet are very powerful magnets.
 

But Nowhere NEAR As Powerful As THIS Guy’s!