The one where I realize I was a soul-less child.

Children are strange. They have priorities in life that seem to escape logic and as adults the oddest pieces of childhood are remembered.
The other day, I shared one of those memories with my mom, who looked at me quizzically as if to confirm that I was still hers.

What I had recalled, you see, was my first brush with crime. But it was a crime that I had clearly willfully forgotten about because it was proof that as a child, I did not have a soul or indeed empathy for any other human being. Think pulling kitten’s tail, but worse. Think throwing someone’s prosthetic leg in the fire, but worse.

It’s time to come clean and share the moment that separated me from a loveable child and a heartless criminal.

“Oh, what did you take someone’s crayon?” you’re likely thinking with a forgiving wink in your eye.

“Did you purposefully muddy up your sister’s shirt because she and your cousin had the same one and you didn’t and you were jealous?"

Yes, that happened also, but this was worse.

I stole from an orphan. Nay - multiple orphans.

You hope I am exaggerating or using fanciful terminology, but you’re wrong.

Let me take you back to the years that formed me into a human being.

My mom worked at an orphanage. Now that makes it sound like I grew up at the turn of the 19^th century and she took a buggy to work right after she beat our laundry on the rock, but nope. That’s a thing.

Now, we would go there sometimes to hang out with fellow children, but – let that sink in – you know, they were orphans, while I had parents.

But here’s what you don’t understand. These children had the coolest toy ever and I wanted it. Was it a Barbie? No, you fools. Barbies were owned by capitalist wannabes. Was it Lego? Also no. It was a tennis ball with a slit in it on a stick.

This sort of gives you an idea of the barometer of coolness against which  I was judging life’s luxuries. And while the parentless children looked on, I took this toy home.

It was not until later on in life (some might say, shockingly later) that my conscience alterted me that stealing from orphans is uncouth.