The Bean Bag Chair

I love children. I love to hear what children think is important, what they like about themselves, what they enjoy, and how they like to spend their time. I like to watch them explain what they have learned in school, I like when they share their feelings, and I like watching them play with each other. The growth of a child is watched and supervised more carefully than the growth of an adult and therefore, it seems that there is a lot of pressure to learn and grow. In reality- life is packed with growing. Lessons get tougher and tests get more frequent the more a person grows. One thing I like about growing is being able to laugh at moments of growth or change that seemed like a big deal at the time. This particular moment that I am about to share was not necessarily a pivotal, life-changing lesson but somehow it cuts to the core of a funny facet of my growing self.

I was invited to a boy girl, basement, birthday party in 4th grade. I was new that year- just switched from a private elementary school to the public school down the street. It was well into the school year, giving me time to establish a group of friends. In grade school, friendships come and go quickly, but somehow I was invited to the most popular girls in school birthday party. They were twins,  and they were smart, and blonde. They had plenty of Limited Too outfits and new, dark grey and neon pink, Nike gym shoes. (This is an important detail because at the time, I was too picky and stubborn to choose from the cheaper tennis shoes and chose to just take a black sharpie to my light-up, white and navy blue tennis shoes.)

So I am new, but not new enough to be interesting, and mysterious anymore, just still new -but invited. The party was loud, and silly, as most ten year olds are. There was laughing and teasing and fun being had by all. I am thinking now, at this point, in my ten year old mind, I need to loosen up. I need to get into the party and get on everyone's level. I am mostly watching the party at this point and feeling the energy- level start to really pick up. In my memory of this occasion, the room is in slow motion as kids are running and yelling around me. In my attempt to loosen up I smile and pick up a bean bag chair, and in one swift motion, I hurl it across the room in celebration. My smile quickly turns to a face of horror, as immediately the room comes back to real time, and the energy- level takes a dive. I have knocked over at least two, 2-liter soda bottles, and a pizza box, in one swift motion. And in one swift motion as well, the mom (also my assistant lacrosse coach) has come down to check on the party. In a disappointed and harsh tone, she yells to all of us that we all need to calm down. Aggravated, and shaking her head she cleans up the mess and pulls her girls aside to help her and to express her distaste. My one attempt, my big courageous moment of coming out of my shell, had led to total destruction and embarrassment. I don't know if anyone saw that I was the one who threw the bean bag chair. I chose to believe that everyone was just having too much fun to notice, instead of the possibility that nobody knew what to say or how to react to my sudden, rambunctious act.

This moment stayed buried for a long time. Much too shameful, shocking, and embarrassing to share with others. It wasn't until recently that this memory crept back up and caused such painful, chocking, gut-busting laughter as I attempted to tell my family. Remembering my ten year old self and the feelings that went along with this circumstance made me laugh so hard. My embarrassment and shame is now turned to acceptance and pride. I really am proud of my ten year old self.  I didn't need to learn a big lesson, or to have changed my life dramatically to be proud, I am just proud of how I lived that moment and how I got over it by shaking my head and cringing as if I was my own parent, and then moving on with daily elementary school life, which brought countless more embarrassing moments.  I guess one of the reasons why I love hearing what kids have to say, what they think about, and what they experience is that I relate to them and understand them. Even though I am considered an adult, I have all my twenty- three years living inside me still.

Love always,
Cassie