This afternoon was father/daughter bonding time.
That's what it was supposed to be.
Not really.
But that's what I wanted.
It didn't happen.
Mum joined in, but then she left.
She had stuff to do, or something.
It was supposed to be fun.
If getting slapped across the face by a football is fun.
Which it's not.
We were supposed to be working on my 'catching skills'.
That's not going to happen.
My brains like, 'Right, we gotta move now!'
And my feet are all like, 'Do we have to?'
And my hands are all like, 'Guys, help me!'
And my face is like, 'We're gonna die. Yup. Definitely going to die.'
And then my brain tries to calm every one down.
'Guys! It's just a football!'
And that's when my feet go all,
'Hey! Lets run the other way!'
None of this ends well.
My brother kicked me in the face.
By accident.
How do you kick someone in the face,
"By accident"?
You can't.
Noooo way.
Even if you could,
He's my brother.
Brothers don't kick you in the face,
"By accident".
And even if he did,
(Which he didn't!)
He still laughed.
So did Dad.
So much for 'Bonding'.
My face hurt.
A fair bit.
Playing football hurts.
So does my face.
That's how football bonding went.

Bye. Bri.

P.S Post idea copied from Mahnoor. :) I love this style of writing! 

Here's an idea! Comment one word YOU think describes my football/bonding experience! Tata!

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