Funny how certain events don't serve up matching memories for those involved. For example, the story of how I got a small scar on my forehead. When my sister visited this past week, we talked about the scar. We both agreed that it happened mostly because of the swingset we had in our backyard. And we agreed that at the time, I was probably too young to know what I was doing when I got injured. However, here's where our stories change:

Brandi remembers that she was swinging on the swing (the one sort of like a seesaw swing) when I sort of toddled over and got whacked in the head with the other end of the swing. (I asked just why I walked over there, and she shrugged. Guess I wanted to see what getting hit would be like.)

I remember that it was a sunny day after church. We had somehow gotten out of changing out of our Sunday best before going to play, and Brandi was gleefully swinging on the swing when she called out for me to come to her. Young as I was, I didn't know any better to move before she came swinging back at me, and her pointed sunday school shoe met my forehead just before I hit the ground.
Of course, I could be wrong. I mean, I have awfully vivid memories of a time when I was that young and had just suffered a small head injury. But I'm sure I'm right.