Hey y'all. Don't own nuthin'.
From day one, she was never "normal." But what is a "normal" child anyway?
As soon as I saw her turn off our old black-and-white TV to pick up an old paperback copy of "Peter Pan" I knew she was different.
She was young enough to be distracted by the cartoons and three-million channels that are out there. Yet, she ignored everything a "normal" child would be absorbed into.
I tried to persuade her to look at something else; music, dancing, I even tried to get her caught up in that Disney and Nickelodeon crap.
What can I say? I was desperate. But she was stubborn. I hate to think that it was my fault she didn't have a normal childhood, even though it was.
When she started reading, she became someone else.
I saw her captivated in the words.
I saw her running with the Lost Boys.
I saw her drifting through the air hand-in-hand with Peter himself.
I saw her intently listening to Tinkerbelle's chimes, laughing as the fairy's wings glided under her nose tickling her.
I saw her sword fighting with pirates; fly across the night sky in Captain Hook's pirate ship; return to the Darling nursery.
I saw the exciting spark in her eyes as her imagination was amplified.
She never was a "normal" child. No, she was too much like her mother for that.
