unfortunately, it constantly encroaches on my so-called real life.
being an only child, growing up in a neighborhood with much older kids, i had a wonderful time playing with my dolls, Barbies, etc. i made up stories, long, elaborate princess-kidnapped-by-ogres stories. but only if no one was around, because i also did all the voices for the dolls.
one of my favorite dolls was a HUGE doll named Sarah. Sarah and i had many things in common: same short pageboy cut, blue eyes, kinda chunky. but most importantly, Sarah was real. and woe be unto anyone who tried to talk me out of it.
then one Sunday, reality smashed my fantasy right in the face.
growing up, my church had a "March to Sunday School in March" promotion. for every friend you, as a kid, bring to Sunday School, you got points or a toy or something. but, since every kid i knew already went to church, i never had much luck with bringing anyone. until i remembered Sarah.
i could bring Sarah to church! she was real. she was my friend.
unfortunately the people at church didn't see it the same way i did.
needless to say, i was highly offended.
it was then i made a vow to never, ever grow up. or, if i had to, then i would do everything in my power to remember what's reality for adults, ain't the same for kids.
- kids believe. they believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, that monsters are in the closet and vampires are under the bed (and to this day, if my arm slides off the edge of the mattress, i wake up enough to reel it back in. that way, the vampire can't grab my arm and pull me under the bed).
- they believe that toys have a party once kids (or adults) leave any room they're in.
- they believe that knock-knock jokes are hysterical.
- that stepping on a crack really can break your momma's back.
- that farting is the funniest.thing.evah.
- that a kiss will heal any boo-boo.
- that Mom & Dad can fix anything.
- and that "Where the Wild Things Are" is the the "War & Peace" of my generation.
- that Marathon candy was the best candy bar ever, that NO ONE, not the Colonel, not Mrs. Knott's, not anyone could fry chicken like my auntie.
- and nothing was better than getting a real, genuine Valerie doll for your birthday.
and i still believe.
once again, concrete evidence that i may be months away from turning 45, but i am not a grown-up. i don't ever want to grow up.
and that, Gentle Reader, is the final score. fantasy wins.