Chapter 4: All good things come in twos.

Two shoes, two socks, two pieces of toast, two cookies, two gloves, two seats, two popcicles, two earrings, three children. Something seems to be off.


As I told you before, I am the youngest of three. Not only is three a crowd, but being the youngest of three means you really get the shitty end of the stick. But, as the trooper I am, I learned how to pick up a shit covered stick without getting any crap under my fingernails.


Two roller skates.
Instead of taking turns like a sucker, my sisters had an even better system.
"You get one and I get one. Shut up Chelsey."
So around in circles they went, each on one roller skate (in circles cause there isn't really anything else you can do when you're on one roller skate) having the time of their lives. Did I go sulk by myself because I didn't get a roller skate? You know me better than that. No, sulking isn't my bag. As a child with a very vivid imagination, I decided that my doll, was in fact a roller skate. So there I was, zipping around our play room with a doll under my foot, thinking "Holy shit, are we having fun, OR WHAT? I love roller skates."


Two FBI badges.
My mom and step dad were FBI agents for Halloween. So of course, like good parents (teehee) they gave them to us when they were done. One guess as to whether I got to be an FBI agent. Ever.
I had to sit at our chalk board desk (the kind with the bench that would pinch your ass everytime you sat down) and be the secretary. A genuine FBI secretary. Again, did I complain that I didn't get to be a real FBI agent? No. I got straight to my important secretarial duties (writing backwards f's, maybe a 4, a circle or a stick, depending on my mood) and I felt as though I was an integral part of a well oiled machine.


Two sets of Freddie Krueger razor fingers.
Actually, I didn't even want to play with those. So, I had no qualms with letting them become a part of the never ending cycle of fun stuff I didn't get to play with.


So my advice to all of you would be, if you ever have an odd number of children like three or five, (no way in shit am I going to count to seven, cause that's just disgusting) buy enough for all of them. If you choose not follow my advice, I believe you are risking the possibility of having an extremely off beat child, that writes a stupid blog everyday. I trust you know the right thing to do.


"I call dibs on the middle seat!"