Day 11: Quitter

I became a quitter when I was in pre-school. I remember what I was wearing, where I was, and what I was doing when I decided to quit.

I've talked about my cousin Sam before, but for those of you who don't know her, she's my cousin. We were born 5 months apart and most of the world thought we were twins when we were younger because Granny dressed us alike. She was my only friend until we started school, and even after that we were attached at the hip.

Sam and I went to a pre-school that was conveniently located in the ghetto. Kids tried to drown eachother in the swimming pool in the summer and boys peed onto the pole attached to the swing-set on the playground. This place had a skating rink inside which I found to be awesome when I was a kid. Except when I fell and people skated over me.

A few times a week, Sam and I went to dance classes down the street. Our teachers would dress us in our cute little outfits and cart us there in the pre-school van. There, we'd dance and stretch and run around like children who were raised in a barn. I'll post the recital picture when I can find it. We were too stinkin' cute.

One day in the van on the way home, Sam told me that she was quitting dance because she'd broken her leg.

Now, she wasn't wearing a cast or walking with a limp. She had no medical proof to back up this claim but I believed her because she always told the truth. (In my eyes anyway... Now I'm beginning to question a few things.)

Back to the broken leg. The adult in me says, yeah right, kid. The kid in me thought, "Oh my gosh! I don't want to break my leg, too!" Visions of blood and bone poking through flesh flooded my mind and it was then and there in that Children's Friend van, dressed in my sparkly purple leotard, that I decided to quit.

My Granny let me quit dance with no protest and that was the end of that. Looking back, I probably should have asked a few more questions. Like, "I don't see a cast," or, "Well how did you make it through dance class with no problems?"

Ahh, the innocence of a child. I wish that I could say that I am no longer gullible enough to believe outrageous claims and such, but I can not tell you that. I'll believe just about anything if you tell it to me with enough conviction and a straight face. Dang it.