Previously on I’m Telling My Mom, Anusha is having quite the interesting conversation with a first grader. Upon asking what Julie intends to be as an adult, the precocious child has just responded, “A ballerina-doctor-princess-artist-in space”. How exactly will Julie pull this off? Well…
She rolled her eyes at me and sighed, as if she’d explained this many times before and was clearly tired of her questioners’ stupidity.
“A ballerina, because I’ll do beautiful pirouettes and wear a pink, poofy tutu to work. A doctor because I’ll take care of the sick. A princess because that’s what I am. An artist who sculpts, paints, draws, and everything!” she said excitedly, waving her arms around, nearly unable to contain herself.
“And in space. Because I’ll also be an astronaut,” she proclaimed with an air of finality, looking pleased with herself.
As for me, I was entirely at a loss for words. I was unsure of what to make of Julie’s grandiose plans for the future.
Simply speaking what came to mind, I mumbled, “You can’t do all of that.”
Surprised and obviously offended by my remark, she retorted indignantly, “Why not?”
“It’s too much,” I answered, shaking my head.
“How are you going to have time to do it all? When are you going to relax?”
“I won’t need to relax because my job will be so awesome!” she yelled back.
“But none of your jobs are related! You can’t do it!” I exchanged harshly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
In retrospect, I really shouldn’t have been arguing with a first-grader over her life goals, but cut me some slack. I was only a self-important fifth-grader.
“I can too!”
“I’M TELLING MY MOM!” she practically screamed.
At the harsh tone and threatening nature of her words, I felt the effusive conversations all around us briefly come to a halt.
She crossed her arms and boldly stared at my surprised expression, as if daring me to challenge her further. Judging from her proud and self-satisfied expression, it was if she’d just unleashed a monster of a threat that would forever silence my protests.
I’d like to say that I laughed in her face at her meaningless threat, leaving her bewildered and speechless. But even as a mighty fifth-grader, I was too puzzled, cautious, and anxious to incense her further. So I kept my mouth shut, preferring not to ruin whatever time we had left on the bus.
Seeing my evidently submissive response, she smirked a little, sensing that she had won the debate.
When the bus finally lurched to her stop, she patted my shoulder impishly and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Friends?”
All the more surprised at her sudden change of heart, I dumbly nodded, again at a loss for words.
She grinned, showing off all of her pearly white baby teeth.
“See you tomorrow!” she yelled one last time as she stepped off the bus, leaving me more baffled than ever before.
Whoever thought that friendship could start off with a threat?