How Mutton Bustin’ Ruined my Childhood

I’m in first grade, and my teacher is passing around the sign-up sheet. I’m nervous as she weaves between the desks, knowing how this will play out but secretly hoping this time will be different. In a room of six- and seven-year-olds, only a few will be given the opportunity to wrap their arms and legs around the fluffy body of a bewildered sheep and try to hang on for dear life as it blindly jets about the dirt floor of San Angelo’s Spur Arena. It is no secret that I am competitive, and it is also no secret that I am over the weight limit of fifty pounds.For rough-and-tumble Texas children, there’s a time of year, not long before the rodeo comes to town,…

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