The Donkeys

Ok. Picture this. My 18th birthday. In the middle of an eons long family car trip. My parents decided that riding stinking donkeys down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon would be a great way to spend my big day. When they asked me to sign the liability form (b/c I was 18 and they couldn't sign it for me) I nearly refused. Many, many hours later, painfully perched in a chair, hoping I'd washed off all the stink in the shower, I had to sit through the waiters at a very formal restaurant singing "Happy Birthday" while my family quietly smirked. I'd made them promise they wouldn't sing to me.

I couldn't wait to be dropped of at college a few days later. Now, I'm thinking I'll have to remember this one when I have a snarky teenager. Take 'em down a few notches.