‘Carrots’, you smug punk?
Prepare for the force of my
Slate thwacked on your head.
Anyone who knew me as a kid would know that I had a bad temper. Epically bad. Greek god bad. While there were reasons for this, that’s what the situation was and I’m not proud of it.
That being said, is there any wonder why I felt an attachment to a character that was likewise temperamental (and imaginative!) who… just sort of naturally grew out of the worst of it? Hey, if that firecracker Anne Shirley could do it, surely I could too? (While getting into the occasional ultimately harmless scrape?)
I’ve somewhat managed it, but I’m proud to say that I won’t be cracking slates on anyone’s head, unless they’re a Nazi, or something to that effect.