Feel like a way-back-when story? I sure do.
It was my dear little brother’s seventh birthday. I was about 8 years and 4 months old if we want to get into these kinds of details. One of the numerous presents he got was a ginormous stack of books, the ones that had big pictures and little to no writing in them. I was feeling infuriating jealousy at that time but didn’t want to steal my brother’s thunder (Yes I’m a good sister), so about a week later I thought it was about time to start unraveling the pages of the colorful books now stacked in the little squares over his bed.
I chose my usual favorite color: a light Pink to match my mind, and carefully wrote my name next to my brother’s, in fat letters right where it said “This book belongs to:” and started looking at the pictures. I quickly realized this was no ordinary 20-page book, it was a DISNEY 20-page book, and I fell in love. All the series were about Cinderella after getting married to Prince Charming and numerous Mickey and Minnie picnics with their friends. They were the world I’ve gotten so used to! All my favorite princesses were in there and my jealousy decided to go on a rampage as I took every single one of the books and wrote my little name in big bold letters behind my brother’s already written initials. Yeah I am also this kind of sister.
Either way the book I was reading was “Une bonne leçon pour Donald” “A good lesson for Donald”, where the selfish cracked-voice duck would never-ever exercise or eat healthy even though his entire duck family told him to numerous times. I started looking at pictures of Daisy, the pretties duck out of all of them, jumping rope and lifting little weight and I thought Wow I want a jump rope, and then I came across another page the fire-spiked my love for salad and mostly lettuce in general. I don’t know if it was the bowl of green that was perfectly drawn or if I was feeling a little hungry that day, but when I saw it, I immediately went to my mother who was already in kitchen preparing lunch, and specifically showed her this page, pointed at the bowl of salad with my little finger and told her to make me exactly just this: “ONLY LETTUCE AND CUCUMBERS MAMA PLEASE”. And she did and I loved the lemon/oil/salt dressing and I ate just that for the next nine years. I eat normal salads from time to time don’t you worry, but my eight year old instincts run right back to me at the sight of a bowl of lettuce and some dressing.