Well for some reason I sat down and thought about my childhood when I grew up in Colorado and all I can say is... How the forget did I not die? I used to go in -20 degree weather with t-shirts, I fell into like a 10-15 foot ditch, my dad had to shoot a bear that we ran into on a hike, I fell into a cactus patch face down, I hit my eye on a sharp metallic corner of a chair when I was two-three and got a cut across my eye, a guy's two dogs got lose and tried to attack me but my dog Jenny fought them off, and probably other stuff I don't remember. I'd like some explanation as to how the hell was I so lucky? I mean I love Colorado but I'm kinda glad we moved.
So was it pure luck or do kids just somehow have magical protection?