Papa's Arm

i do not remember where we shopped for clothes when i was a child, but we were in a place where clothes were sold.  I was between the ages of 3 and 7 i was, and still am, an adventuror with a wander lust, a propensity for mischeif and an imagination to boot.  I walked in to the store under the vigilant supervision of my parents but made short work of escaping their sight and slipping off in search of bargains.  i can only laugh at imagining my fellow shoppers watching on as some 2 foot tall fat blonde kid peroused comfortably through the merchandise.  As it came to pass though i tired quickly of shopping and decided to go into imagination mode.  The first rule of survival is to find shelter, i found comfortable accomodations within a circular rack of discount items.  i sat there cozily and planned my next move...food, gotta find food if you are to survive.  My thoughts however were interrupted by my fathers hands which i noticed had begun shuffling through the walls of shelter searching for a reasonably priced item im sure.  How did i know this was my father you ask? Well he had hairy hands and so does my dad.  So without thinking much more on the matter i cling on to my dads hands and fore arms much like a playfull kitten would capture a ball of yarn with all four paws.  My dad shrieked in terror which is understandable beacuse he had no idea i was in there.  Thats right, my dad had no clue where i was and neither did the guy whose arm i was clinging to until a second ago.  i dont remember much after that,  but i can be pretty sure that imagination time was over and i probly embarked on a pretty desperate search for a familiar face.