When I was in kindergarten, class was broken up into two
sessions. I was in the morning session,
which meant I got out of school around lunch time. Most days, my stepmother would pick me up,
feed me something delicious (Spaghetti O’s was my favorite), and then insist I
take a nap.
She learned early on that she couldn’t put me in my own
room, because I would just sit in there and play with my toys. So, she would make me go into her bedroom to
lie down. It should be noted that I was
not fond of taking naps at this age.
Even my young brain could comprehend that the sun was out, so I should
be playing. So, I would lay there, my
brain a tornado of childlike thoughts, subconsciously counting the minutes
until I was sure that the whole hour had transpired. I would then get up and walk into the kitchen
to let her know that I was awake and ready to go again. However, what seemed like an hour to me was
in reality only about 3 or 4 minutes, so off we’d go again back to the bedroom
where I was told to lay there until she came to get me.
On one such occasion, I lay on their bed, staring at the
patterns in the paint on the ceiling. My
eyes darted around the shapes, drawing creatures and monsters, making up
stories and having them interact with each other. As my imagination ran unchecked, minutes
turned into hours. Hours into days. The monotonous boredom overwhelmed me. It was pure, agonizing torture. I was sure that my stepmother had forgotten
about me. That was the only explanation
for how she could have left me in here this long. It was up to me to remind her that nap time
was over. So, up I popped, back into the
kitchen, and once again informed her that I was awake and ready to go
again. She unceremoniously told me that
it had only been 5 minutes since the last time I had come in there, and that it
didn’t count unless I stayed in there for the whole hour.
Obviously, she couldn’t count as well as me, because there
was no way it had only been 5 minutes. I
decided right then and there that it was a conspiracy. She wanted me out of the way, so that she
could play without me. I was
outraged. So, I lay on their bed,
plotting and scheming. I had to know
what she was doing. I had just slid off
the bed to gather reconnaissance, when I heard a creak in the hall outside the
door. I bolted back onto the bed,
squeezed my eyes shut tightly, and tried my best to pretend that I was
asleep. Of course, I had no idea what
that looked like, since I was always asleep when I was doing it for real.
It must have worked, though, because my stepmother stood looking
in at me for several seconds and then satisfied, headed out again. Now, was my chance. My ruse had bought me time to figure out what
sort of playing I was being excluded from.
Quiet as a ninja, I slid off the bed and tip-toed out of the room and down
the hall. I slunk to the floor and
slowly peered around the corner into the kitchen. This couldn’t be right, my stepmother
appeared to be washing dishes. Her back
was to me, so I couldn’t tell for sure.
I needed a better angle.
So, I quietly crawled across the open doorway, keeping my
eyes on my stepmother’s back in case she started to turn around. When I was safely on the other side, I jumped
to my feet and darted through the living room and into the den. I stop behind my father’s recliner to assess
the situation and formulate the next part of my plan. This was going to be trickier, because the
door to the den opened up right onto the sink.
If I left the safety of the recliner, then she’d spot me. I had to be smart about this. So, I made myself as small as I could, which
wasn’t difficult for someone as skinny as I was, and squeezed into the space between
the recliner and the end table. Halfway
through, I got stuck, and I was sure I was a goner. But a bit of squirming, and I was free on the
other side. I quickly crept across the
den, keeping close to the couch along the wall, so as not to be seen. I once again slunk to the floor and peered
around the corner into the kitchen. I
was aghast. My stepmother was in fact
merely washing dishes. What kind of
stupid game was this? Obviously, not one
that I was interested in, so I crept back and retraced my steps.
Once again, lying on the bed, I contemplated what I had
seen. Is that all she did while I was
napping? Washed dishes? Surely not.
Something bigger was afoot, and I was going to get to the bottom of
it. I needed more data. Once again, quiet as a ninja, I slid off the
bed and tip-toed out of the room. Just
as I was rounding the corner into the hall, I came face to face with my
stepmother coming the opposite direction to check on me. She screamed in surprise. I froze.
Fearing that the mission was lost, I turned tail and darted back into
the bedroom, leaping the last few feet and landing on the bed with a
squeak. I once again assumed the best
sleeping position I could muster, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping that my
stepmother hadn’t seen me. It had
happened quickly. There was a chance
that I could still pull this off.
But she wasn’t fooled.
I had been caught. She wasn’t
mad, though. She stood there looking at
me for several seconds, sighed, and said, “I guess nap time is over. Go play.”
That was all I needed to hear!
