kids underwear

Step1: When I was three years old and growing up in southeast Arkansas, my oldest brother and my cousin ran over my leg. Oh, they say they didn't mean to do it, but my leg still got broken in two places and there's no way I will ever forget the agonizing pain. I was sitting on the curb in front of our house swinging my legs and all of a sudden bump....bump...my brother and cousin were both on one bicycle riding along the curb where my leg just happened to be. It was dark (remember when we could actually let our kids play out front after dark?) and I guess they didn't see me.

Step2: So, there I was on the curb. Bleeding. In pain. And, wearing dirty underwear. I don't remember who went to get our mother, but I remember very well her putting me on the bed and changing my underwear, trying to work around the protruding bones and the blood. After all, who goes to the emergency room wearing dirty undies? Well, I would have, and wouldn't have thought twice about it - remember, I was three. I still can see the bones sticking out of my leg in two places and my mother working the panties up around the bones. I think I also remember a lot of screaming and crying - could have been me - could have been my mother.

Step3: So, to this day, which is 56 years after that incident occurred, I will not let my children or grandchildren EVER wear a pair of underwear that has a stain or it, or is torn, even in the least. When I do the laundry, if I see a pair of underwear that has the slightest flaw in it, it goes in the trash. If something happens that they have to go to the emergency room, I am going to make darned certain that they go there first and change their underwear later.