Memoir Second Draft

Little kids will lie.

They will lie about the candy they ate before dinner, the number of hours they spent watching TV, and the five dollar bill they may or may not have taken. Though it is unfavorable to exercise the frustrating interrogation that follows a child’s lie, often times it is when they tell the truth that the most damage is done. Children can be brutally honest due to their lack of awareness regarding societal norms, and unfortunately, situations such as this have happened to me on more than one occasion.

“You’re really pretty.” I looked down at the seven-year-old girl’s cheerful face beaming up at me.

“Aw that’s so sweet, but you are the prettiest!” I told her. “But you look like you have bumps on your face what is that?”

Her words hit me like a jab in the side. Another particular instance was when I sat down on the couch and she said, “Oh my gosh! You’re making the couch tip! You’re fat!” I responded with a forced smile and suggested we keep watching the movie; she was just a seven-year-old and had managed to pick out every single one of my insecurities, oblivious to the searing impact it had on my very young and fragile mind. I had to remind myself that I was the mature one now and that was a good thing. She was just a kid.

My babysitter, Maria, was my idol, but I remember ‘crossing the line’ as a child and learning what was and was not appropriate. We would mess around and whenever she really had to pee I would sit on her belly directly above her bladder to tease and be silly. I never thought that to an outsider to this particular situation might seem ‘not okay’ or ‘inappropriate.’ To me this was just fun: I saw no boundaries. When I told her things like, “You know, your teeth are kind of crooked,” I had no concept of what was offensive or impolite. Every once in awhile she conducted a short, stern talk. I was learning and she was understanding. I loved being silly and she loved me.

Eventually there comes a time in life when you realize that you have made ‘the switch’ from being a child to being somewhat of an adult, whether it’s gradual or all of a sudden. Sometimes there are blurred lines which make it difficult to operate as a person because you want the freedom of childhood without the pressures of adulthood; the privileges of age but not the consequences. Soon you learn to think critically instead of irrationally, and this switch happened all of a sudden for me. I knew I wasn’t a kid anymore when middle school came along and I realized that I was indeed in charge of my future. I knew I wasn’t a kid anymore when I got my driver’s license and learned what it meant to be responsible for my own life and the lives of those around me. I learned I wasn’t a kid anymore when I went from being babysat to being the babysitter.

All these experiences, not just one, have taught me what it means to truly think about how decisions impact my life, and how these decisions can influence others. I think critically when I decide how to respond and react to the little girl looking up at me who knew nothing about the effect of her words. I think critically when I flip on the turn signal and check my blind spot. I think critically when I choose how to balance my time and what will further help me to succeed in the future. I remember how much I looked up to my babysitter, and now I believe a part of growing up and learning to think critically is also a part of becoming a leader and role model for others. I am who I am because of those who shaped me, and I now I am ready to do the same for others through careful thought process and meaningful deliberation.