Jackie Maugh Robinson
When I was five I got a new doll for Christmas exactly like Janis. She had eyes that matched her cornflower blue dress, ringlets of red hair and unbend-able legs.
I didn’t like her. Janis, not the doll. Her legs flexed just fine. But she could get away with talking back to her parents as I often wanted, but would never have dared, to do.
After Christmas, I worked it out that since we now had identical dolls, it was okay for me to be exactly like Janis. So, one day, I said to my mom, “No, I won’t. You can’t make me.” She promptly gave me a couple of firm swats for sassing and put my doll in the closet for a week.
She was all wrong about talking back. Janis, not my mom.
disturb the reflecting pool