Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Bein a Kid

This is me when I was a kid.

Actually, it isn't. I saw this picture online, and it looks so much like me when I was young, I ACTUALLY thought someone had put a picture of little Julia Moore up. However, the only reason I know that isn't me is because I was never a girl scout (thank you mom, seriously). Sloan said this little girl is cuter than I was. And...well...I can't really argue with that. She has cute, light eyes and mine were/are dark-as-night shark eyes. Creepy, not cute.

I spent some time on passiveagressivenotes.com yesterday, and it makes me never want to have even semi-literate children because they will litter my house and my conscious with these crayoned manifestos.

This one from a girl whose father wanted to finish watching a football game before going to the beach. It took about twenty minutes.

This one from some kid who either didn't have an eraser, or has already mastered the true art of passive aggression.

No explanation needed.

Little Haylee sounds like she might have picked up a few of these phrases from her mother over the years. Yeesh.

Reading these reminded me of a memory from my childhood. I was little, like, five. My mother called me downstairs and sat me down; she was stern. This already had me tearing up because a) Susie Moore is not a stern person! And b) I was the most spineless, neurotic kid ever.
Mom pulls out a little kid's book about horses (the one that no one ever read because horses are boring) and opens the front cover. Written, painstakingly, inside are two rows of curse words. I mean, every word. It's in pencil and it is unmistakable, that handwriting isn't nice enough to be Laura's (my older sister). And as hard as the writer must have tried to print OBSCENITIES neatly, the words are still huge and crooked and misspelled.

Mom: mildly sternly Did you do this?
Julia: too freaked out to speak. shakes head.
Mom: You didn't? It sure looks like your handwriting.
Julia: collapsing into a black hole of childhood sadness and despair. shakes head again, less emphatically this time.
Mom: Baby, these are terrible, terrible words. Can you imagine how I felt when I read these?
Julia: crying so hard my glasses fall off I DID IT! I DID IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!

My mother, the saint that she is, consoles me and helps me erase the words and take a sharpie over the whole page to cover what was left. Then we put the book away and go back upstairs (did I mention that I was bawling the whole time) and rocks me to sleep, a snotty, quivering mess. It was awful, I wanted to die. I was...self-traumatized.

The saddest part, however, was not the needless blubbering. It was the fact that I didn't actually do it. I didn't even KNOW half of those words, let alone write them. And the horse book? Please, I was too apathetic toward that book to even dignify it with the nonsensical application of curse words. But mom's logic was sound (who else could have written it?) and I was SUCH a weak-kneed little kid that I folded THE WRONG WAY after 30 seconds of conflict. Retrospectively, that whole situation still makes no sense. I was just so adverse to any unpleasantness, that I bit the bullet to get it over with. To get a resolution. It was just too painful the longer I went without one.

I didn't even tell mom that I hadn't done it until, like last year. Of course, she had no idea what I was talking about, but tried to apologize anyway. Apologize?? For what?

Am I the only one who has done something like this? Aren't kids supposed to be devious and impervious to adult scorn? GYPPED.


  1. I totally had an experience like this one -- well, lots of them, but one of them really sticks out, and I was actually much older.... I was like, 15, and my dad got mad that there were wet marks all over the passenger side of his car window, and he accused me of licking my finger and wiping it all over the inside of the window.... seriously, Dad? I'm 15. Anyway, he wouldn't hear reason, so I just started crying and went out and washed the window like he asked. Like the next day, my mom pointed out to him the obvious -- it was the dog's wet nose that had made those marks. Anyway, I never told him that I did it, but for a while I started to doubt my own assurity that I hadn't.... I started wondering if maybe I had done it and had repressed it.

    Weird stuff.

  2. Hahaha, poor Connie! You disgusting teenager and your be-spittled fingers!

  3. ha ha ha ha I TOTALLY thought that was a picture of you!! are you certain you weren't a girl scout?!?

  4. It was YOU who erased and scribbled through my curse-reference table!

    I was ten and had a few good naughty words under my belt, but I had trouble remembering some of the particularly juicy ones. Nobody used the weird horses book, so it was the perfect place to jot them all down. Before then I was having to constantly look for forgotten swears on this bus seat, that bathroom stall, or some rap album track list. Yeah, I was seeming pretty cool about halfway through fifth grade, but after you destroyed my cheat-sheet, my dirty vocab decreased so drastically that I was instantly dropped to the nerdy social levels.

    And now I'm an engineer.

    As a side note, I'm not too surprised that my 10-year-old penmanship got confused with that of a 5-year-old.

  5. I'm just worried that if you ever got called into a police investigation, you will just fold and confess to whatever trumped up charges they might throw at you...even if they just want a witness statement.

  6. Hahaha! Richard! Who'da thunk it?