One of the first memories

For as long as I could remember we walked to school. When I started kindergarten we would get ourselves up and fed before school started. Once our mom got home from work, she worked nights as an R.N., we'd kiss her goodbye and she'd send us off to school.

There were adventures on the way to school, but this one actually happened just before we got to school. We usually lived a few blocks from school and while we walked we entertained ourselves. Keep in mind that my brother was the experienced one. He had already spent a year in school and he knew the ropes, so in a pattern that would become the pattern of our life, I did what he said to do. He could talk! Even at that age he told me the rules about school. You needed to pay attention, and always follow the rules. Stuff like, make sure you freeze during the freeze bell, never question the teacher, and never, ever be late.

We were engrossed in talk and I was learning well, we had just about reached the schoolyard, when suddenly I noticed I, for some unknown reason, was still wearing my pajama bottoms. There they were underneath the skirt of my dress. I was agahst! What should I do? I could go home and take them off and rush back to school! No, looking at his watch, (yes he could already tell time!) I'd be late getting back, you'll just have to wear them all day. What? How could I do that? He told me to just hike them up and keep them scrunched up over my thighs. Tug at them now and then and no one will notice. Do you think that will work? Well, pull them up, see, you can't see them. You'll be fine! Off I went to class.

I must have been so obvious to my teacher. I kept tugging and pulling and "stressing". I wasn't myself and while it didn't seem any of the other kids had noticed, my teacher knew something was up. About two hours into the day, she came to ask me what was up? I pretended that there was nothing wrong (another pattern I had begun to adopt) and why was she asking? She tehn told me I seemed to be having a problem with my "skirt". Well, in an act of humility, that always happens when I'm embarrassed, I crumbled quicker than a cookie in the hands of a three year old. I told her my predicament. I told her what my brother recommended. She was so sweet. She explained that sometimes boys, even when they're great older brothers, know nothing about fashion. That why did n't I simply take the bottoms off, she'd give me a bag to put them in so no one would ever know, and then I could relax and enjoy the rest of the day like usual.

That was my first lesson in fashion. My brother, the genius, knew nothing about being a girl!