Let me start by setting the scene. It's 1978. I am 8-years old. My four siblings and my neighborhood friend and I are home with a sitter while my parents run a quick errand. Apparently, it wasn't quick enough and they didn't hire the right sitter! Or, as I like to tell it, I outsmarted them all!
When my parent's car was out of sight, I hurriedly got all of my ducks in a row. First, I called Dial-a-Ride—a local taxi service—and asked them to pick me up 3 blocks from my house. Next, I stole about $20 in quarters from my dad's coin jar. Finally and right before the getaway, I reassured both my 4-year-old sister and my friend that I had a fail-proof plan. That plan, unfortunately, did not include putting shoes on my sister, but I didn't have time to worry about the little things.
Like clockwork, the big yellow taxi came and took my baby away… wait, that's a song. A less glamorous but fully functional white Dial-a-Ride vehicle came and drove the three of us 20 minutes to the nearest mall. The freedom, the exhilaration, the shopping. It was more than a girly girl recently crowned Miss Independence (and I don't mean of Missouri) could handle. Ice cream, anyone? Earrings? Oh! I think I'll take some of those.
I left one thing out. Before we left the crime scene for our fashion frenzy, I left a note.
Every criminal leaves a note, right! Even my 8-year-old mind knew that. I wrote: "Dear mom and dad! We went to the park… in a taxi. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Too bad CSI and Law and Order weren't the TV shows of choice in those days, because I certainly could have learned a thing or two about not giving myself away. But, good thing I did, because after scouring the neighborhood, the park, and calling everyone they knew, my parents made a call to Dial-A-Ride and sure enough, the company confirmed they had picked up a 12-year-old girl along with two others in that vicinity only a couple of hours earlier and in fact, they were bringing us back at that precise moment. When I heard that story, I was so thrilled the company actually believed I was 12! Shopping and passing for 12? Now, that is one successful afternoon.
Well… my shopping soiree ended abruptly when we walked up to our house to a whole crowd of people. Not only did I get grounded from playing for a week, but I got grounded from my friend for, oh! life! I kid you not.
Years later… as it has been told and retold, I have come to learn I was a very creative child. At the time, I just felt grounded—but with a really cool pair of earrings!
What childhood confessions do you have?