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Popsicle Runaway

Popsicles. They are sweet and sticky and an amazing treat on a hot summer day.
It was a beautiful morning. I woke up with the innocent bliss of a four year old, without any knowledge of what was to come. The sun was radiantly shining, the birds were singing and I was happy. It was like one of those animated Disney mornings with the talking animals that had all helped me clean my room the previous night. One of our elderly neighbors came over later in the day to have a lovely chit chat with my mother and fawn over her lovely children (including me!). Well, being the charming child that I am I ran around playing with my brother and entertaining our guest. But as the day wore on my sweet tooth began to ache, my pores began to secrete fluid, and my stomach howled, for there was no craving filled, no party happening and no food present in the cavernous digestive organ. Therefore I was forced to ask for one of the delicious, delectable popsicles that were so closely coveted and guarded by the soothingly chill freezer. I batted my eyes, smiled sweetly and said, “Mommy? Can I pleeeeeease? Have a popsicle?” “NO!” was the terrible word that rang in my ears! Hearing that leave her lips was like the sound of a dog’s bones being crushed by a passing semi, and as the finality of the word sunk deeper and deeper into the depths of my comprehension I understood. I understood that I could not have a popsicle. And I was outraged, disappointed and a little depressed. So I began to do what any reasonable four year old would do. I begged, I pleaded and I bartered but my mother would not budge and as she condemned me to my salmon colored walls a seed of resentment took root in my heart and began to grow. As it grew, it made me consider what a sufficient punishment could be. And then it came to me as swiftly as a lightning strike! I would run away! That would show her! So I pulled out my suitcase and began to pack the necessary supplies to make it on my own. I packed my favorite dresses, a pair of sneakers, a few stuffed animals and my angel collection. As I was making preparations my mom came in and asked me kindly what I was doing, I quickly made up an excuse and went on talking to her, and talking and talking, and laughing, and smiling and having happy thoughts and as we talked the resentment transformed itself into love and I thought to myself, “I will not leave this woman who so cares about me after all.”



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