What Were You Like as a Child?

This week's Long & Short Reviews prompt asks reviewers what we were like as children.

Back then a lot of people still thought the ideal child was "seen and not heard," so a lot of adults seemed to like me because they didn't know anything about me. Didn't need to know anything about me. Hand me an age-appropriate book and I'd probably curl up with it and be quiet. Hand me a totally inappropriate book, say a scientific journal, and I'd sound out the words and read it and amuse everyone like a little trained monkey. Mother would not have let anyone hand me a REALLY inappropriate book but I "read" things about chemicals and engineering and such. 

One evening I decided all by myself to entertain the family by reading a tampon ad. I was six. I was hoping someone would tell me what tampons were and whether they had anything to do with the city of Tampa across the bay. No one did. The adults completely ignored me, and it worked. I didn't try that again.

I could be noisy and bratty, too, but usually didn't have enough energy to bother. The nature name I chose for myself, after seeing it in a Dr Seuss book, was "Weepy Weed." As an undiagnosed celiac I was pale, sallow, and listless. Dad wouldn't let Mother cut and style my hair, though it wouldn't grow very long in any case, so I had long black hair--however thin and stringy. When my cuspids grew in, they were all out of line. I looked like the Hollywood version of a vampire. Kids at school would ask me to chase them. I couldn't actually catch them, so there was no real incentive to chase anybody, but I was bored at recess. There was that.

I liked peace and quiet. This was not to be confused with having any respect for my teachers; for most of them I had none. I rated them favorably if they had enough sense not to push the issue. I really disliked people who tried to engage me in whatever little dominance displays they made. If they just wanted to flap and crow like roosters, that was their business and might even be amusing, but nobody had any right to demand attention from me.

I was not a particularly nice child. Then again, if your definition of niceness involves empathy, I don't think there are many nice children--if any. Children can be trained to make displays of polite manners that will express sincere empathy later on when the children are old enough to feel it. They can learn to keep out of adults' way enough that the adults won't see anything that disturbingly belies those polite manners. They can even have enough personal space and enough access to things that interest them that they actually have nice neutral feelings about other children. Beyond that, some children do show extroversion; they want to grab for control of other people's attention. This is a tragedy and the afflicted children should be kept at home where they can't spoil anyone else's good time. Children who are going to become nice people are not yet very nice; they think very little about anyone else, don't mind if other people have their own things but do not want to share anything that interests them, at best find other people amusing in a way that can easily lead to greedy or even cruel behavior; but they have so little to give to others that it's probably best that they remain quiet, cheerful little parasites rather than even trying to be part of society. 

I was at least a healthily introverted child, focussed on learning how to do things that would eventually allow me to have something to offer to other people. 

Months ago I wrote something here that mentioned that the perfect afternoon, for me, includes children. I'm an aunt, what else could I say? Someone else thought it would be hard to ensure that the children would enjoy the afternoon. For my brother and me, as for The Nephews, I don't think it ever was. At least our elders knew enough to entertain us in the way I later entertained The Nephews: Give them a choice among books, toys, craft supplies, and a safe outdoor space, and leave them to it. The right sort of children will enjoy the peace and quiet and have a wonderful time. 

So, despite chronic illness and a fairly steady stream of annoyance from other people who didn't have enough sense to leave me alone, I remember my childhood as a pleasant time of learning, reading, and doing. I had a companion when I wanted one and could get rid of him with an assurance of attention later, if he left me alone now, when I didn't want company.