As I was getting ready this morning, an experience from my childhood came to mind. (This biggest complaint about my childhood was I had to put up with myself. There are days I wonder why my siblings didn't tease me more since I always had a good reaction.)
When I was in junior high, or younger (I am not sure about my age), my older sister was trying to round up the rest of the kids and herd us all to the van to go somewhere. Back then she often called everyone 'bucko.' So as she called for us 'buckos' to come to the van, I decided to be a pain. I proudly retorted. 'I'm not a buck-o, I'm a buck-et.' I really didn't think before I spoke. (There are days I still don’t think before speaking as my husband can tell you.) It took a while for that self-proclaimed nickname to be forgotten.
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