When I was a senior in high school I wrote this paper so that I could finish my CIM in writing. My teacher told me to write a narrative about anything I wanted and this is that paper.

There are times in your life when you feel like dirt, or the low man on the totem pole, or you would rather be dead. Although my life has been jam packed with moments like this, the “cheese” stands alone. I was in the second grade and I had just started playing tee-ball. I was playing for the White Sox and it was my first year living in Bend, Oregon. I had not yet made very many friends and I was trying hard to do so, this occasion wasn’t much help.
It was a warm and sunny Saturday afternoon and I was at a local park, a few miles away from my brand new home. We were playing the Expos and leading the whole game. I was playing very well (I was quite the child athlete, which quickly wore off through my high school years), at the start of the fourth inning and my team was up to bat. After two outs I was on deck. Suddenly I felt a tingle through my whole body, but I just ignored it because I was next up to bat. I just had to relax and focus. I was anxious to go hit but the kid in front of me got out causing us to go out in the field. Before I grabbed my glove, I went over to my coach and asked if I could go to the bathroom but he smugly told me, I needed to hold it and go out into the field. Now, I wanted to kick him in the balls but my mom told me to respect all adults, so I grabbed my Ken Griffey Jr. replica glove and headed out to first base.
As soon as I reached first base my pea sized bladder was filled with urine. Before you can even begin to understand the hell I am going through, you should know that the difference between tee-ball and regular baseball is that the ball is always hit into play because if you strike out on pitches they bring out the tee to hit from. Because of this, each inning is like a half of an hour because second graders can’t catch a baseball let alone throw one.
I was manning my base and patiently waiting for rain, a forfeit, or a sudden death of one of the players so I could run off the field and treat myself to a relaxing urinary release into the fine port-a-potties that were generously provided for us. I tried to get my mind off the pee by thinking about the game but the longer it took for us to get someone out, the nearer I was to turning into a human water balloon.
Then, I thought to myself, what if I just let out a little bit of pee so that I wouldn’t have to go as bad? So I put my plan into action and released a sparse amount of the warm yellow liquid. Because I was wearing a cup the pee was caught in it and no one could see. I was home free. I soon realized that it is very difficult to stop peeing after your body has had the euphoric relaxation of this calming act of urination.
My mind went into a full panic mode and I started thinking of how I can get out of this without being the laughing stock of the entire second grade. I thought of the most foolproof plan to save my life and make myself not look like an idiot. With my plan ready for action I started releasing the rest of my pee. As the urine flowed down my leg and penetrated my extra small athletic supporter and my gray polyester pant fortress, I put my genius plan into action.
I let my tears flow like a garden hose, I cried like I was on the verge of death because if I cried then people wouldn’t laugh they would just feel sorry for me. With my glove in hand and first base island and a sea of pee beneath me I walked of the field and went into the big green port-a-potty and finished my business and my mom took me home to get me cleaned up.
The moral of my story is: don’t listen to adults when it comes to a seven year old’s bladder. I have had so many embarrassing moments in my life but I would re-live them all in one day if I could have this moment in time erased forever. I don’t know what the score was or whether we won or not, but I do know that when you have to pee it is better to use a bathroom than your pants.