I originally shared this in 2009. I stumbled upon it recently and thought it was worth sharing again; my Mom had her hands full when I joined the scene.
When I was around 4 or 5, my Mom took me to our beloved shopping mall for a little outing. She thought it would be a good idea to go into the Jordan Marsh department store and try on some new clothes for herself.
Oh, how I loved that store. Not only did they sell clothes, TOYS, perfume, and shoes, they also had a lunch counter. I think they may have had the best Girl cheese sandwiches ever.
(it wasn’t until I was much older that I learned it was GRILLED and not GIRL cheese. Now, that made sense that my brother was able to also order it.)
On this particular day, as Mom and I were in the dressing room, and I already had my fill of girl cheese, I was bored to tears with her trying on clothes.
I made a break for it. I easily climbed out of my stroller, for I am part monkey.
It was so easy to escape my cell underneath the door, especially when my captor was naked.
These are the things I did to her, but secretly I think she enjoyed all the chases I put her through. How else would a young mom get her daily exercise?
I remember bits and pieces of this day, but as my Mom told the story I think it gets better each time.
I vaguely remember wandering through the clothes department and out into the freedom of the mall.
I kind of remember crossing over the little wishing pond in the middle of the mall; the pond that I dreamt of falling into one day and collecting all the shiny coins.
I vaguely remember the smell of burning candles, pretty colors and twinkling lights.
Alas, I found myself in the Wicks-n-Sticks store. Also known as heaven.
Then I remember people asking me ALL sorts of questions; they really wanted to know about me!
What is your name? Where is your Mommy? How old are you?
Wow. A kid can get used to this kind of attention.
“Why hello nice people, my name is Kelly and I am 9 years old.”
YES, I was a big fat little liar.
According to my Mom, it took 20 minutes for
20 3 deputies and some all of the mall staff to find me.
Prior to Amber alert days, you could get away with more stuff; the good ole’ days.
I was a bad, bad girl.
And the name Kelly? Who knows where that came from.
Since I’m a fickle pickle, a year or two later, I changed my name to Cindy.
Cindy Damn Brady.
The funny part? Today, when I venture to the mall, I still end up in the candle department. Minus security.
Is that mess of a kid Suz, Kelly or Cindy?
How did you traumatize your parents?
C’mon. I know you did. How else would we be friends?