|Grandpa King and Old Bob (left)|
I must have terrified my mother who finally quit looking out the kitchen window. My brother and I used to swing from the top of one tree to another on those brittle old oak limbs. It was a wonder we didn't fall. I'm sure out angels got a workout.
I blame it on my ancestors. The gene for risky behavior runs strong in my family and we have all these great stories that we don't tell our mothers except on Mother's Day if we want to make them go pale. It's not like they probably don't know, but sometimes pretending you don't know helps mothers maintain a passable blood pressure.
My Grandpa was a great storyteller and he told "this story ". It sounds a bit like an Australian short story called the Exploding Dog, but I figure there's no way this incident hasn't happened before, especially in the days before they invented Child Protective Services and made farmers quit letting their 8 year-olds drive the combine.
Enjoy "the story". And never let it be said that Adventist Moms raise sissy boys. But do make sure you lock up the dynamite.