When I was three, and starting school, my parents told me to “go for it” – i.e. get what I want. Then my dad told me to stop chasing (and kissing) boys around the playground. I gave up after this – too contradictory, I felt.
When I was six, and quite comfortably learning many things, I was rudely attacked by a horrible boy named Zach, who used to sit behind me in my junior school. He had a compass – what kind of parent gives their child a sharp pointy object to play with? We didn’t do anything mathsy in those days….anyway, he used to pinch me, pull my hair – once he ever CUT my hair. I told the teacher – she told me not to “tell tales”. I told my parents – they told me to “sort him out”. So, the next time he stabbed me in the back with his wretched compass, I turned around and bit him. The teacher made me stand in the naughty corner.
It was at this moment, in my sixth year of life, that I realised…life isn’t fair.
