Chapter Ten: AAD--the first symptoms
I've never really told you this, children, but you may have figured it out by now. I think it's serious enough that I should warn you about it, because some of you may have this gene and be predisposed to the same disease I have. I think it's only fair to warn you.
I have AAD. Animal Aquisition Disease.
Don't bother looking in any medical books to see if you can find this one. Those of us who have it generally don't discuss it, except sometimes, rarely, to one another. But if you look for the symptoms, you can usually tell when someone has it. I don't know when I got it, but I often try to think back over my life to decide when the symptoms first showed up. The best hypothesis I have is that I was born with it.
The reason I think this is because the symptoms showed up fairly early in my life. From what I can estimate, they became visible pre-Hartville Road, so I must have been no older than two or two and a half. I don't have any mental recall of the event I'm about to describe to you. I only know that it happened because my own mother told me this story many times, and it's one of those stories that I asked for over and over again.
When we lived on Grace Road, there was a swingset in the front yard, which is amazing to me and doesn't make much sense now, because I was only very, very little and I don't know why my parents would have bought a whole swingset for a two-year-old, but apparently they did. I actually remember playing on the swingset with my friends Michael Ann (yes, she was a girl), Jody (who was a boy) and their sister, whose name I can't remember because it must have been a traditional girl's name. I don't remember, however, the time when I decided to take off my poopy diaper and slide down the slide repeatedly before my mother caught me.
One day, when I was supposed to be playing on the swingset but, instead, I was digging in the dirt. Dirt, after all, is much more interesting for a two-year-old than a swingset, and this dirt was especially interesting because it was where I found my new friend--Wormy.
Wormy was, as can be surmised from his name, a worm. Perhaps the sheer ridiculousness of a two-year-old child becoming friends with a worm is proof enough of my disease. Perhaps loneliness spawns AAD, and a worm, being the cure for loneliness, begins the cycle of AAD. I don't believe there have ever been any formal studies done on this hypothesis, because I think Big Business has prevented it. If Big Business (in the form of pet stores) found out the cause of AAD and parents everywhere began lobbying for a cure, think of all the money that would be lost in brand new kitten products alone. No, I believe that a cure for AAD--simply because of the secretiveness of its sufferers and the influence of Big Business--I believe that a cure will never be found.
But if the disease does, indeed, begin with a worm, then that's the place to which we can trace my disease. If the worm was only the first known symptom, then we know that the disease can strike even, and maybe especially, the very young.
I carried Wormy around with me all day that day. I swung on the swing with him, ate lunch with him, and played in the dirt with him (he liked that part a lot). When the end of the day came, and it was time for me to take my bath, I had every intention of bringing Wormy with me. But my mother, bless her heart, had no room in her heart for a pet worm, and she drew the line at bringing wormy into my nightime routine. And so, before I was bathed, pajamaed and tucked into my little crib in my little room, I had to set Wormy free. I'm certain now that he was just as sad about it as I was, but the Power That Was (my mom) had more Power than I had in my little, chubby, two-year-old pinky. So, from the comfort of my little crib, I worried about Wormy, and as I fought sleep, I called out to him.
"Goodnight, Wormy! Goodnight, wittle fwiend! We can pway again tomowwow!"
Wormy, I'm sure, was the very first symptom of a lifelong disease.
So, watch for the signs, children. Be aware. Do you have a "Wormy" in your life? You can blame your dear mother for the AAD gene.
I just thought you ought to know.
I have AAD. Animal Aquisition Disease.
Don't bother looking in any medical books to see if you can find this one. Those of us who have it generally don't discuss it, except sometimes, rarely, to one another. But if you look for the symptoms, you can usually tell when someone has it. I don't know when I got it, but I often try to think back over my life to decide when the symptoms first showed up. The best hypothesis I have is that I was born with it.
The reason I think this is because the symptoms showed up fairly early in my life. From what I can estimate, they became visible pre-Hartville Road, so I must have been no older than two or two and a half. I don't have any mental recall of the event I'm about to describe to you. I only know that it happened because my own mother told me this story many times, and it's one of those stories that I asked for over and over again.
When we lived on Grace Road, there was a swingset in the front yard, which is amazing to me and doesn't make much sense now, because I was only very, very little and I don't know why my parents would have bought a whole swingset for a two-year-old, but apparently they did. I actually remember playing on the swingset with my friends Michael Ann (yes, she was a girl), Jody (who was a boy) and their sister, whose name I can't remember because it must have been a traditional girl's name. I don't remember, however, the time when I decided to take off my poopy diaper and slide down the slide repeatedly before my mother caught me.
One day, when I was supposed to be playing on the swingset but, instead, I was digging in the dirt. Dirt, after all, is much more interesting for a two-year-old than a swingset, and this dirt was especially interesting because it was where I found my new friend--Wormy.
Wormy was, as can be surmised from his name, a worm. Perhaps the sheer ridiculousness of a two-year-old child becoming friends with a worm is proof enough of my disease. Perhaps loneliness spawns AAD, and a worm, being the cure for loneliness, begins the cycle of AAD. I don't believe there have ever been any formal studies done on this hypothesis, because I think Big Business has prevented it. If Big Business (in the form of pet stores) found out the cause of AAD and parents everywhere began lobbying for a cure, think of all the money that would be lost in brand new kitten products alone. No, I believe that a cure for AAD--simply because of the secretiveness of its sufferers and the influence of Big Business--I believe that a cure will never be found.
But if the disease does, indeed, begin with a worm, then that's the place to which we can trace my disease. If the worm was only the first known symptom, then we know that the disease can strike even, and maybe especially, the very young.
I carried Wormy around with me all day that day. I swung on the swing with him, ate lunch with him, and played in the dirt with him (he liked that part a lot). When the end of the day came, and it was time for me to take my bath, I had every intention of bringing Wormy with me. But my mother, bless her heart, had no room in her heart for a pet worm, and she drew the line at bringing wormy into my nightime routine. And so, before I was bathed, pajamaed and tucked into my little crib in my little room, I had to set Wormy free. I'm certain now that he was just as sad about it as I was, but the Power That Was (my mom) had more Power than I had in my little, chubby, two-year-old pinky. So, from the comfort of my little crib, I worried about Wormy, and as I fought sleep, I called out to him.
"Goodnight, Wormy! Goodnight, wittle fwiend! We can pway again tomowwow!"
Wormy, I'm sure, was the very first symptom of a lifelong disease.
So, watch for the signs, children. Be aware. Do you have a "Wormy" in your life? You can blame your dear mother for the AAD gene.
I just thought you ought to know.
Hammered out at 9:27 AM. Copyright 2004 by Denice Hazlett
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home