Misunderstandings

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I had some rather comical misunderstandings about the world as a child. These moments ranged from private fears I was too worried to ask about, to embarrassingly public declarations of misinterpretations I was confident were true. As I grew older and began to navigate the world in a semi-independent manner, I had a lot of these. Elementary school in particular was rather rough for me.

For instance, I remember being secretly terrified that my father was serious when he warned me that eating handfuls of dried oatmeal would cause an undigestable pit in my gut that I'd need surgery to remove. I mean, the man was a doctor! Who was I to question this logic? Of course it was frightening. Especially when you consider that he always told me surgery should be avoided at all costs. My slightly portly belly was obviously proof that I had been snacking on potential death.

Another time I was playing in our basement (a dream for any hoarder of the medical supply and sporting enthusiast type), and I stumbled upon my brother's athletic cup.
    Yup. I thought it was a breathing apparatus. Naturally, I began to play with it. This isn't so strange when you think about it. I was welcome to play with most of the other medical supplies. I couldn't tell you how many times I used a stethoscope or made balloon animals out of medical gloves as a child.
    So, there I was, running around with my yucky brother's crotch protection on my face pretending it was a mask. I discovered it's real purpose when I ran up to my brother and, in a breathy voice, declared myself to be his father. I thought I was so clever. Being a typical teasing brother, he ridiculed me extensively. Imagine a recently amputated Anakin Skywalker's expression, and you've got my reaction.

Perhaps my most distressing blunder was the insolated blanket confusion. While preparing one of those yearly survival kits for school with my mother, I started giggling at the idea of an upset blanket. "What's an insulted blanket?" I asked with mixed humor and confusion. Oh boy! That was the wrong question to ask in this particular crowd. See, in my family you don't get to just skate by with a question like that going unnoticed. We are a sarcastic bunch, and we show affection through mockery. So, let me just say: I got a lot of love that night. .

At the time, these experiences were all stressful. The associated embarrassment is no doubt the foundation of my neurotic ways. Luckily though I'm human, and I have the inherent ability to grow and move past this shaming history of hilarity. My current vantage point affords me the ability to fondly look upon these memories as my own battle scars of a normal development process.

See, being a kid is sort of like starting a new job. There you are, in a new environment trying to learn what you are supposed to do and how to do it all. Acutely aware of your lack of knowledge about this place, you feel free to ask more questions than those around you. However, at times you are forced to take a leap and guess. Sometimes you're right and your supervisors are impressed, but frequently you are wrong. You may occasionally receive the somewhat condescending chuckle of someone who knows all to well what you're going through, but mostly people cut you some slack. You are, after all, new here.