As a 4-year-old, I rolled with a lot of punches and didn't ask many questions. I'm not sure if this is true for the majority of young children, but it was true for me. I made the best out of what I was handed... at least that's the way my 26-year-old brain remembers the 4-year-old version of myself.
When I was young, I liked a song called "Magic Man" by a band named Heart. I was under the impression that Heart, who only have three songs worth listening to, were one of the most important and productive groups in the world. Whenever someone mentioned they had memorized a specific song by heart, I thought they meant the song was actually "by Heart."
"I know all the words to 'Like A Virgin' by heart."
Even though "Thriller" didn't sound like a girl singer, you wouldn't believe how many people knew that song by Heart. Heart seemed to be the most eclectic group in the world, whose popularity knew no bounds. Had I questioned just one of the people who knew a song by heart, I would have saved myself both a great deal of future disappointment and a bundle of Heart Fanclub fees.
I'd like to refocus on the pre-school, because really, the pre-school is the most important part of this blog - despite this blog being neither about pre-school nor my youth.
Often, my dad picked me up after a long day of playing with blocks and painting with fingers** and we'd set out to walk the 15 blocks back home. Because my pre-school was in a community college, the bulk of my surroundings were created and designed for "old people" which, as a small child, I defined as anyone older than 11. Somewhere near the pre-school facility was the main college cafeteria.
I'd like to refocus on the pre-school, because really, the pre-school is the most important part of this blog - despite this blog being neither about pre-school nor my youth.
Often, my dad picked me up after a long day of playing with blocks and painting with fingers** and we'd set out to walk the 15 blocks back home. Because my pre-school was in a community college, the bulk of my surroundings were created and designed for "old people" which, as a small child, I defined as anyone older than 11. Somewhere near the pre-school facility was the main college cafeteria.
Before heading home, my dad occasionally detoured us to the student cafeteria and stood me in front of a vending machine. Vending machines filled with candies and chips stacked higher than the Space Needle were more unreal to a 4-year-old than the toy aisle in a grocery store. Not really understanding the concept of coins, vending machines were seemingly free havens of junk food. The mere act of finding a vending machine proved its discoverer worthy of its snacky sweetness.
I don't recall when it was that I realized vending machine food wasn't free, but I'm sure I was devastated.
It wasn't just junk snacks that made vending machines the highlight of my week,*** it was that all this junk dive-bombed into a toddler-level doggy-door delivered by robotic gyroscopes. Watching the slow roll of a Snickers bar nearing the abyss was like sitting in on an open-heart surgery. It was beautiful.
I don't recall when it was that I realized vending machine food wasn't free, but I'm sure I was devastated.
It wasn't just junk snacks that made vending machines the highlight of my week,*** it was that all this junk dive-bombed into a toddler-level doggy-door delivered by robotic gyroscopes. Watching the slow roll of a Snickers bar nearing the abyss was like sitting in on an open-heart surgery. It was beautiful.
Every part of my life was somehow pre-determined. It was either nap time, arts and crafts time, time for bed or time for dinner and once I arrived at each of these activities, I was told when to sleep, or how to play, or what to eat. Standing there, my fathers pocket change already sitting in the guts of the machine, a wide expanse of choice towering above me; whatever I wanted was at my disposal.
About how many opportunities in life will a child find such choices?
About how many opportunities in life will a child find such choices?
About how many opportunities in life will we find such choices?
Nothing was sweeter than the taste of the candy that I chose from a vending machine. It was mine, the precise treat I wanted at the precise moment I wanted it. We make choices everyday.
How many of those choices are both simple and successful?
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* Toys to a small child were like drugs, weren't they? I hated going to the grocery store. Grocery stores were boring, loud, I hated the cold of the refrigerator section and being in a grocery store meant I wasn't watching "Dukes of Hazzard" reruns at home.
Nothing was sweeter than the taste of the candy that I chose from a vending machine. It was mine, the precise treat I wanted at the precise moment I wanted it. We make choices everyday.
How many of those choices are both simple and successful?
===============================================
* Toys to a small child were like drugs, weren't they? I hated going to the grocery store. Grocery stores were boring, loud, I hated the cold of the refrigerator section and being in a grocery store meant I wasn't watching "Dukes of Hazzard" reruns at home.
But the sweet siren song of a trip down the toy aisle was like the pied piper's flute. Our grocery store's toy aisle was like a miniaturized orgy of glorious id-feeding commercialism. Despite the fact that I rarely walked out of their with my mother having purchased me anything from the aisle, the pungent whiff of possibility was enough to compel me to go every time...
...that and the fact that I was too young to stay home by myself.
** Me, not Dad. Perhaps my father played with blocks and finger-painted before picking me up, but I can't be sure. You'd have to ask him.
*** No seriously, the highlight of my week.
** Me, not Dad. Perhaps my father played with blocks and finger-painted before picking me up, but I can't be sure. You'd have to ask him.
*** No seriously, the highlight of my week.
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