Killer

I can’t remember the reason why or how it got started but in sixth grade I was called, ‘Killer’.   I know I selected the name and I know I felt strongly about it being the right nickname for me.   I’m fairly certain it was more that I wanted to be seen as powerful and intimidating, not that I was.  

I wasn’t the coolest kid in school, nor was I in the popular crowd.   I’m fairly certain the nickname was more of a posturing thing than it was anything else.   My best friend, Veda, picked the name, ‘Vulture’.   She would perch on top of the desks from time to time, acting out vulture-like behavior.

I don’t remember who called us by our names, but I think it was most people because my sixth grade yearbook has a lot of the inscriptions to ‘Killer’.    I also know our teacher (who’s name I have forgotten) also humored us and from time to time called us by our alternate names as well.  

Killer seems like such an odd name to pick for me, now, as an adult.   But it was what I identified with back in sixth grade for a good part of the school year.

The Big Boy Update:  My son ate eggs and a large amount of bacon for breakfast this morning.   He had a lunch that was not entirely foreign, but had some changes to it that would hopefully help him to focus more easily during the school day.   He liked all the food and seemed to have a fairly good day. Tomorrow he’s most excited about the pepperoni stick in his lunch box.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter had the best time swinging on the swing in her cousin’s back yard on Saturday at Olivia’s graduation party.   She spent the majority of the party there.   At bedtime later that night she was complaining about her fingers hurting her.   I knew she’d worn the skin some from the swinging, but I didn’t realize how much so until the next day when she showed me her hands and I saw she had five large blisters.   Thankfully she didn’t see the needle when I told her I was going to pop them.   She wanted to feel it and had I let her, she would have panicked.   After I popped the first one (and it didn’t hurt) she kept showing me other blisters.  She loves motion.   I wish we had a large tree with a branch suitable for swinging.   There’s nothing like a swing hung from a high branch in an old tree.