Crackers and Cheese
A birthday gift
My stepson and his lovely wife have given me a birthday gift of Wheat Thins and cheddar cheese, a gift that has reminded me of a traumatic experience.
The Experience
Years and years ago, I became a pupil in Mrs. Dorothy Dana’s kindergarten class. After the first few days, which were intimidating, I began to feel grown-up. I chose my own shirt, tied my own shoelaces, and combed my own hair (although my hair was very short, I nevertheless swiped at it every day before walking to the schoolhouse). During class, I was adequate. During nap time, I was more than adequate: I was a very good sleeper. But during snack time, I excelled: I was a vigorous slurper (each pupil was given a little carton of Knudsen milk) and an energetic cruncher (each pupil was also given two Wheat Thins). Life was good. Then Mrs. Dana made an announcement to my classmates and me: “John won’t be having his snack with us for the rest of the year, because his mother has said that it spoils his dinner.”
My Response
I was surprised by the announcement (I didn’t recall my mother’s having said anything to me about how my snack had been spoiling my dinner), but I accepted it. Like all the other children who have ever lived, I considered myself the center of the universe, but like all those other children, I acknowledged…
