Unless your childhood was perfect, your family was probably pretty good at upsetting you.  Surely we all dealt with this in different ways – the most common being running away from home. 

Mom would blame you for something your brother did, and the next thing you knew, you were packing up your G.I. Joe or Barbie bag with your favorite toys and hitting the road, never to return (for the next half hour).

I remember sobbing as I walked down the street, thinking of all the things I would miss about my family.  I hoped my family would realize how foolish they had been when they realized they would never see me again.  More than anything, I wanted them to experience extreme amounts of sadness due to my sudden disappearance.

Venturing a block or two away from my front yard is about as far as I dared to go. There I would set up camp for a few minutes and wait, and wait, and wait. While pretending to hope my family would never find me, I secretly hoped a search party was being arranged.

After several lengthy minutes of sitting under a pine tree in my neighborhood, I figured I’d probably been missed enough and maybe it was time to hoof it home.

Half expecting a celebration when I walked in the front door, I was always disappointed. There was never a panic party – just my family going about their business. Nobody even noticed I was gone!

As proud as I am, I’d slip in and unpack my Barbies before anyone noticed what I had done. By this time I didn’t even remember the reason I’d left in the first place. And I knew deep down that if I had the guts to run away for real someday, someone would have to care.

Shootin’ the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.