ricpic said...
That picture brings back a memory. When I was 5 or 6 and my mother would have a bunch of ladies or girls or women over to the house (well, not the house, the apartment) I would lie under the kitchen table in my little box that my mother put me in when they were gathered around it drinking tea or coffee or gin and stare up their legs. Even then I knew that up there was IT.
I would always get wood.
I was no dummy.
2 comments:
At the risk of saying something serious, my parents really did think of me as a dummy, not stupid but a marionette that would grow up right if the right strings were pulled. In other words with no separate internal life of my own. Boo Hoo.
I can almost hear ricpic's mom and friends acknowledging IT: "ain't nothing wrong with that boy".
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