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OLIVIA COVEY
WRITER

Re: Childhood Stories

Every year, my hometown has a county fair in the beginning of August. When I was around four-years-old, my mom and grandma took me to the fair to see the animals, ride rides, and eat a ridiculous amount of french fries. My mom dressed me in one of my favorite outfits: my red bandana skirt and a white shirt.

As we were walking around the fairgrounds, we decided to stop into the animal barn to see the goats. A girl who raised one of the goats asked me if I wanted to pet a goat. Obviously I said yes, and it was great for the first few minutes.

I pet the goat and talked to him, but a few minutes later, I looked down to realize that the goat had started chewing on my skirt. I was terrified. My mom and grandma thought this was hilarious and couldn't stop themselves from laughing as the flustered goat owner tried to get the goat to stop eating my clothes. For years goats freaked me out, and I still don't a hundred percent trust them.