Trouble

This story I wrote when I was ten or eleven yrs. old:
It had been a lousy, hot winter day. I woke up and went to feed my chickens and, as I ran across the armadillo path that was made out of bricks, I ran into a tree (ouch, I said). I fed the chickens and started running back, but not paying attention to where I was going, I fell in a river that ran under a bridge. I then had to swim to the other side, because I thought that the side I was swimming to was the side to get back home (I was wrong). I crossed over the bridge, and was almost to the porch, when I tripped over a flower and fell face first into the mud.