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O The Innocence of Youth
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Written by Maria on Monday, May 1, 2006
Our garbage was getting full, we’d just changed the cat’s litter, and our new little dog needed to do her business.
I really like wheeling in our apartment complex’s parking lot at night. There’s no burning sun, crazy cars, or gawking people. It’s cool, quiet, and, at night, my little playground. There are curbs of all depths to be hopped, ramps to fly down, stairs to try to maneuver, and speed bumps. I love the speed bumps the best. It’s great fun to get some speed going and then roll over them holding my hands up. I’m not really sure why it’s so much fun.
It was 10pm, nice and breezy, about to storm. As my husband took our trash to the compactor, I wheeled over to a grassy area, with my little dog sitting proudly on my lap. I think she’s realized, after only three days, that she can get places without having to walk if she begs enough to ride with me.
On the way to the grassy area, four little girls, ages 10 to 13, I’d say, were playing on the complex’s jungle gym. (I have no idea what they were doing out at 10pm, unsupervised, and when it was about to storm. So don’t ask.) As I rolled up a small ramp, I heard one of the girls say, "Look at that doggie." I smiled to myself because after the words "look at that" I figured I was going to hear "wheelchair." But I didn’t. As I got closer to where the girls were, one of them asked if they could pet my little dog. I, of course, said sure. Eight little hands were suddenly all over my little dog, vying for the touch of her soft sleek fur. They asked her name, how old she was, what breed she was. Then they started telling me about dogs they had or had had in the past. All through this brief encounter, I was expecting some question about me. About the chair. I’m happy to say, it never came.
They eventually decided they needed to get back to their playing and so left, saying, "Good night." They were probably some of the best-mannered kids I’ve met in a long time. All they had eyes for was my little dog. They didn’t even seem to notice the chair.
Why do we poison our children, as they grow, to believe certain things about certain people? And how did these four escape it thus far? It’s a long shot, but I hope by the time I have children that the world will be as innocent as these children were. It would definitely make my lifetime.
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