I can’t imagine what made me so unhappy, or why mom thought it would be a good idea to snap a photo when I clearly did not want to be seen. Was it the fact that I was being restrained in a high chair, no food, no toys, trapped between the dryer and the laundry basket? And what happened to my legs? Maybe the terrible too’s – too tired from over-stimulation and too insistent on things going my way – was in fact in my way? Or, was I being punished for being a bad girl? I mean look at my arm! My imagination has never needed a piece of paper to write it on. That’s what hands, and arms, are for!
I can also feel my soul crying out “just sit still.”