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Impossibly small

October 14, 2006

Every morning I wake up to just myself while my single-mom mother sleeps in until about 10 or 11 am. I can operate the dial on our TV and discover the joys of Lewis and Martin and the old Tarzan movies shown on the UHF channels on our big black and white TV. I can drag a chair into the kitchen and grab some cereal and pour the milk all by myself. I am tall for 5 years old and am pretty sturdy. My mothers only concession to crappy junk food is cereal. I adore Honey Combs but am lured away by crafty commercials to beg for Cookie Crisp. I am totally disappointed that they do not actually taste like chocolate chip cookies. I am forced to finish the box even though I decide it tastes like crap. I watch Jerry Lewis and Bugs Bunny cartoons while my mom sleeps. I want to make hot chocolate but am not sure how to operate the stove and am certain if I could figure it out I would be in big trouble. I try to make it with cold water from the tap and it does not dissolve. I use the Nestles Quik but it does not work with water like in milk and I give up after 2-3 other ideas. I love Pepe Le Pu the skunk and think that if I ever like a boy he will have to be just like him. Only not as fury or as smelly as I imagine a skunk to be. I am always confused that he does not get it that the pretty girl he likes is a cat when it is clear to me that she is not a skunk. I also love Daffy Duck and Porky Pig especially the one where he is Friar Duck. The coyote and road runner kind of scare me. I don’t like how that coyote can just order stuff with out a house, phone or money and dangerous things get delivered to the dessert with no address. You would think you would need a permit for something like dynamite or an anvil that big. I sneak some RC cola and pour it into the extra large 20 oz. glass my favorite baby sitter Val bought me for my birthday. I adore Val and her best friend. All last summer they teach me the words to Bohemian Rhapsody and they show me how to do the dance/performance they have made up to it. Vals jeans have faded knees and the cuffs are all frayed and she has the most amazing feathered hair. I think she is the most beautiful woman I have ever known. That summer she taught me to love fried bologna and cheese sandwiches with ketchup. I realize now it was a sandwich probably invented by the munchies that the pot she smokes with her ultra cool feathered roach clip have induced. She wears it in her hair and later that summer I beg for one for my hair and my mom reluctantly agrees to buy me one at the State Fair that August. I look so freaking cool especially when I wear my white terry cloth tank top and shorts set with the tie-dyed pipeing and my wooden and leather platform sandals. Sometimes she paints my toenails and I look them all week and hope that one day I will be as cool as she is. My mom wakes up and we begin our day. I say good bye to my TV friend and accept the adult company with gratitude. There is this new show on called “Kids are People too!” and I just love this show. Excitedly I say to my mom how great I think the title is and she snarks, “No they are not.” I ask her what are we then, indignantly. She replies, “You are just a kid. Not a whole person yet.”

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