Question Of The Day - Tuesday, September 25

cassiopea

cassiopea

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Hello hello! Happy Tuesday! The last Tuesday of September!

:fallsmiley:




If your five-year-old self suddenly found themselves inhabiting your current body, what would your five-year-old self do first?






I would probably attempt to adopt around 20 animals from the local shelter. Including some ponies if there were any available. I technically did have my own pony at that age (Competitive equestrian family and all, regular scheduled lessons) but it was a split ownership so I had to share her with another kid. I didn't like that :tongue: I selfishly wanted my beloved horse to myself. So yesh, either buy off Lady Jane in full or get some more additional ponies for myself :cool2:


And if all else fails, probably go by all solo to a local store like a big girl and buy a bunch of sweets, books or toys.
 
betsygee

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I would stay in my pajamas and play with my cats all day, instead of doing all the chores and errands I actually have to do today. :lol:
 
Columbine

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Probably cry :bawling: :cringe: :bawling: (I wasn't desensitised to chronic pain back then).

Probably go ride and cuddle my pony, and play with the cats and dog the rest of the day :cloud9: There aren't any shelters near enough for a mass adoption spree.....which is probably a good thing.....:paranoid:
 
M

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I would go ahead and tame that feral on the edge of the woods. My dad screamed at me when I snuck her some of my cats' food behind the tractor. He took the food away from her and continued to scream at me to never feed those dirty, disgusting ferals. I never looked at another feral until 30 some years later with Demi & Maggie. Same woods. Who knows, maybe ancestors of that cat. Life is a circle and it always comes back 'round. :)
 
muffy

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maggiedemi said:
I would go ahead and tame that feral on the edge of the woods. My dad screamed at me when I snuck her some of my cats' food behind the tractor. He took the food away from her and continued to scream at me to never feed those dirty, disgusting ferals. I never looked at another feral until 30 some years later with Demi & Maggie. Same woods. Who knows, maybe ancestors of that cat. Life is a circle and it always comes back 'round. :)
Click to expand...
Your father sure was mean. How did you turn out so nice?
 
Elphaba09

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My five-year-old self was a scared child with major family issues, so I think I would be terrified for a good while then realise that my current house is safe and nice. After that, I would play with my cats and color.

maggiedemi said:
I guess I'm so nice because I know what all the mean words feel like, so I don't want anyone else to feel like that.
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While I would not call myself "nice" exactly, I completely understand what you are saying! My mother taught me how not to treat others because I never want anyone to feel the way she made me feel.
 
meandcaptinmeow

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Cry.
:lol:

I love the way this question is worded. It isn't about being five again. It's about suddenly being encased in a 59 year old body. ..Yea, I'd probably be quite frightened!

I love the idea of a daily question!

..When I was five, I was listening to Light My Fire and Do You Know The Way To San Jose on AM radio (or that might have been when I was 8..okay, Puff The Magic Dragon then, by Peter Paul & Mary). Anyway that's exactly what I would still do, as I love music.

And I'd play with my jack-in-the-box, kaleidoscope, Lincoln Logs and slinky..ooh, and a wonderful little record player with a steel needle. I had 78 rpm records of On Top Of Spaghetti and a Peanut Sat On A Railroad Track and all that. La Plume De Ma Tante. ..Wonderful stuff.

I wanted a bicycle at the time, and tried to sell the pieces of a broken watch, to raise the needed cash. When my father got home and saw a "FOR SALE" sign in the front window though, he had to take it down. People thought the house was for sale (and showed a surprising lack of interest in buying any watch parts). Go figure!
 
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RajaNMizu

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Let's see...when I was 5, I was busy reading to the neighborhood kids, playing tag and eating ice cream.

I teach PreK. So today, I read, I played tag...and I just finished a Klondike bar. So, I'd be doing the exact same thing. :yess:
 
1 bruce 1

1 bruce 1

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raysmyheart said:
Honestly, the first thing I thought of was - worry. I was a terrible worrier at five and would even make myself sick with worry! Even loud noises made me worry!

Luckily all these years later I've learned to worry a lot less.:wavey:
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I remember my first day of grade school. I got off the bus and just started wandering around the school. 20 minutes later I was trying to be cool, because I'd found my way into the high school and tried to act casual and tried not to piss my pants in fear because I had NO idea what I was doing in the same halls as the "big kids". Some nice teacher saw me, realized that I was clueless as hell and escorted me to the correct classroom.
Later that year, I puked in at lunch and peed my pants on the playground.
I wasn't the bravest kid, as you can tell.
 
meandcaptinmeow

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I got sent to the principal's office - made to walk there alone, not knowing where or what it even was (I was 6, and frightened) - and all because I couldn't help letting out a laugh when the teacher said "poo" unexpectedly (Is that REALLY a get-sent-to-the-principal's-office offense? In my home, the word she used was bad!
And yet she said it!!!! :hyper::flail::lol: POO! SHE SAID POO!!! :crackup::cool2:

That was first grade.

In the third grade I wrote "I love you" on a piece of paper and passed it to the girl in front of me. The teacher saw this and made me stand in front of the class and read the note. I was just a kid, exploring feelings that were new to me, growing, discovering life....but she felt the need to turn something sweet into an experience of total humiliation and shame. I could tell some rather tasteless jokes to illustrate how bad an incident like that could turn out for someone, but fortunately years of therapy and paying hookers to step on me, and of course never having a successful healthy relationship, was the worst result. So I guess there's no need to sue. :cool2:
(Oh. I told the tasteless jokes anyway, didn't I? Oh. Well don't read them.)
(Did I tell you the teacher said POO?! SHE SAID POO!!

Anyway I got back at the teacher who humiliated me for sport. Her name was "Riordan" and I tricked my mother into writing it as "Rear end" on a needed note one day (I spelled it out one letter at a time and she just wrote it. He he. TAKE THAT MRS REAR END!
.
 
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