Just kidding. I’ve never been grounded in my life.

I’ll be honest, I was never in trouble as a kid. I got great grades. I did my chores when I was supposed to (maybe sometimes after being asked a couple of times). I was an angel.

 

I think I mentioned it before, but I really was only in big, big trouble one time. I don’t remember what for but I remember that my mom made me sit in front of the television at the time the newest Power Rangers episode was supposed to be on, with the TV off. I had to sit there in my time out for the full 30 minutes staring at a blank TV screen. After, that, I’d do my best to never get in trouble ever again.

 

There are probably a couple times I should’ve been grounded:

In elementary school, I was over at a friends house for a sleepover and we attempted to sneak out to go meet the boys in our grade. We only made it across the street and then set off the alarm of the house while trying to climb back in. Luckily, our really stupid story about why the window might’ve been open worked or else my parents probably would have heard about our attempt at rebellion.

 

Later around the same time, I was sent to the principle’s office. I was playing touch football at recess and one of the guys on the other team was pretty adamant that I couldn’t play. I was a girl, I could play, I just couldn’t touch the ball, according to him. So I caught the ball and was super proud of myself. My ego inflated so much that on my walk back to our side of the ball, I ran my shoulder into his as I walked by. Because I was all tough and shit. The very next play, he came at me and we got into a bit of a scuffle. When we walked back into the classroom and the teacher asked what was wrong, I tried saying it was just football. The boy, on the other hand, told him I’d hit him so he hit me back. I just cried in the principle’s office and we both got sent back to class. The perks of being a girl, amiright?

 

The second time I attempted to sneak out was probably my worst planned offense. I lived on the second floor of my house in high school and before bed pulled out a gigantic ladder and put it up against the side of the house. My friends and I planned to sneak out and go meet some friends. It was a vague plan but I suppose we were serious enough to set up the ladder. Then, we got too tired and realized we didn’t drive and therefore were not willing to walk miles to go meet people that may or may not show up. In the morning I told my parents I had gotten locked out while playing on our swing and I used the ladder to get back in. Smooth.

 

My dad was almost always angry that my friends and I would make too much noise during the weekends or weekdays during the summer. He threatened several times to not allow people to come over anymore.

 

Later in high school, when I had a car and cell phone and general freedom, my grandma (whose birthday is today! What up Mamaw? I love you! Look how pretty she is in that photo!) moved in with us. It only took a couple of weeks for her to realize that I had extreme freedom. To the extent that I would be on my way out the door and yell over to my mom, “Hey, I’m going to a movie with Nick and Jessie. I’ll be home later.” My mom had to pull me aside and tell me that my grandma didn’t appreciate that I didn’t ask permission to do things. So she suggested I phrase things as a question but assured me she’d always say yes.

 

At that point, can you really blame her? I was the best kid. Even the times I probably should have been punished were all failed attempts at being bad. I couldn’t manage it, even when I tried. I’m really not a rebel.

 

What can I say? I’m a good kid… And still am.