The Kindergarten Pudding Feeling and A Fine Place to Visit
Kidlets! Stop what you're doing and follow my good graces to a magical and wonderful place right here on the Internet.
A Magical and Wonderful Place Right Here on the Internet
Devour it like warm pudding from kindergarten. You know the kind - round little plastic cups of goo that warmed your soul and made you believe that the sweetness in life was doled out in ten ounce servings by a plastic spoon.
Actually, the Kindergarten Pudding Feeling (KPF) was never sated. We all wanted more. We scraped at the sides and the lid of our KPF until we were too dizzy to stand. We would trade much more nutritious and valuable objects for it. Marbles and trading cards and ham sandwiches made with care in the early morning by our mothers. We would eat ten at at time and then jabber like monkeys in the play corner and knock each other in the knees with the wooden blocks. "Time Outs" were a pending certainty.
My favorite was Vanilla. Chocolate was too biological, at least at that age. We all knew one kid who made a type of human pudding, and he would be shunned or misunderstood, preferably transferred out to the safety of homeschooling. One less combatant when the blocks were dispersed - that much was certain. We hastily remade the maps, and rewrote all the passwords to the recess pit.
How did we ever find our way out ? The room was enormous, everyone knew that. Subdivided as it was into little zones of activity that were like islands, and we couldn't man the boats until told to do so by the enormous woman who loomed above us like lightning over a dead tree.
We were all hermetically sealed until 3pm, when the light that framed the doorway shot into our eyes and we were free. We huddled in the back seats of our parent's cars and became quicksilver, sliding down against the upholstery, unable to speak.
"How was school?"
Who knew? School was already now just a dim memory redolent of crayons, peanut butter and paste. All the gaily-colored pictures that were meant to instruct only served to launch us against each other like frenzied atoms vying for the heart of an unseen molecule. No one knew why the addition symbol was being introduced, but Dakota was the new kid and he wore corduroy and that in itself meant something had to be done, and quickly.
Our days were arranged around sudden tantrums and the burlap cots to which we buoyed our dreams while the sun grew bright outside. We had spent so much charting our course, consulting the maps (which were already under revision as the new value of the Red Tonka Truck and the peach-colored construction paper needed to be accounted for).
At home, during supper, we ruled the dining table as eager lions. Our lopsided teeth tearing into the fresh carrion brought down on the veldt - meatloaf casserole. Our place was secure here - no codes, no maps, just the feast in full. And so to bed.
A Magical and Wonderful Place Right Here on the Internet
Devour it like warm pudding from kindergarten. You know the kind - round little plastic cups of goo that warmed your soul and made you believe that the sweetness in life was doled out in ten ounce servings by a plastic spoon.
Actually, the Kindergarten Pudding Feeling (KPF) was never sated. We all wanted more. We scraped at the sides and the lid of our KPF until we were too dizzy to stand. We would trade much more nutritious and valuable objects for it. Marbles and trading cards and ham sandwiches made with care in the early morning by our mothers. We would eat ten at at time and then jabber like monkeys in the play corner and knock each other in the knees with the wooden blocks. "Time Outs" were a pending certainty.
My favorite was Vanilla. Chocolate was too biological, at least at that age. We all knew one kid who made a type of human pudding, and he would be shunned or misunderstood, preferably transferred out to the safety of homeschooling. One less combatant when the blocks were dispersed - that much was certain. We hastily remade the maps, and rewrote all the passwords to the recess pit.
How did we ever find our way out ? The room was enormous, everyone knew that. Subdivided as it was into little zones of activity that were like islands, and we couldn't man the boats until told to do so by the enormous woman who loomed above us like lightning over a dead tree.
We were all hermetically sealed until 3pm, when the light that framed the doorway shot into our eyes and we were free. We huddled in the back seats of our parent's cars and became quicksilver, sliding down against the upholstery, unable to speak.
"How was school?"
Who knew? School was already now just a dim memory redolent of crayons, peanut butter and paste. All the gaily-colored pictures that were meant to instruct only served to launch us against each other like frenzied atoms vying for the heart of an unseen molecule. No one knew why the addition symbol was being introduced, but Dakota was the new kid and he wore corduroy and that in itself meant something had to be done, and quickly.
Our days were arranged around sudden tantrums and the burlap cots to which we buoyed our dreams while the sun grew bright outside. We had spent so much charting our course, consulting the maps (which were already under revision as the new value of the Red Tonka Truck and the peach-colored construction paper needed to be accounted for).
At home, during supper, we ruled the dining table as eager lions. Our lopsided teeth tearing into the fresh carrion brought down on the veldt - meatloaf casserole. Our place was secure here - no codes, no maps, just the feast in full. And so to bed.
posted by Stefush at 8:03 PM
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