Ninja

by Allison Stein

All my life I have been clumsy. I can trip up the stairs, walk on my own feet and trip and fall when the ground is flat.  I have learned to fall slowly so I don’t hurt myself, and have learned to get up and make sure that it looked like I fell on purpose. Like I attacked the ground. Yeah… take that ground!!!  Tremble when when I am near….don’t make me tell you again…I’m a bad mother (shut yo mouth!)

So the other day when I fell yet again, was I mad because it kind of hurt…no. Was I mad because it made me look stupid…no. I was mad because I am a shoe connoisseur  and I got mud on my favorite pair of shoes! I was all dressed up ready to rock out one of my jewelry shows and somehow I thought it was time to attack the ground again. But this time the ground fought back and left its battle scar on my shoe!!! I was so frustrated, as a Jewelry Lady you have to have a certain look, and well, mud just doesn’t seem to convey that look.

When I got home I was telling my hubbyman about the “incident” and my oldest son Alex, decides to tell me I need to enroll in Ninja school. There I would apparently learn how to stop bullets, roll in mid air, and always land on my feet when I fall.  So I pondered for a moment what Ninja school would entail. I would learn all the graceful skills they possess,  and in my head a little movie unfolded, I went through all the classes, all the sparring and concluded that my Ninja journey would probably end as follows with a phone call placed to my mother:

Mom, I really think that its not fair they kicked me out of ninja school. Apparently clumsy is an automatic fail, and the word “oops” is highly frowned upon.

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