When I was seven years old, I wrote a note to a friend in a grade two classroom. Recess was only 15 minutes long and we were picking up where we left off from yesterday's game. We were playing house. It was my turn to be the Dad. The day before I didn't like playing the child because I kept having to follow ludicrous rules simply because I was in that role and my friend decided, as father, he could make me do whatever he wanted...including carrying him on my hands and knees from "the kitchen" to "the livingroom". My note was to Jody, to whom I said we would "sleep together" and then "wake the kids" and that she and I would be "as snug as two bugs in a rug like two frogs on a log". Now, I had seen a card somewhere that said something similar and thought I was being clever and funny. At the ripe old age of 7, I had no idea what such a statement might imply other than a rhyme and people being in the same place at the same time.
My teacher had been called away to a phone call and the principal, a nun at this catholic public school. She saw the note being passed and demanded it be given to her. Keep in mind that I was 7 years old. Reading this note, the principal flew into a rage and dragged four of us to the office for reprimand. It seems that each of us in turn were terrorized with our parents having been called in due to this horrendous incident. I, being the note's author, drew the greatest ire of Sister Satan (FYI: not her real name). First I was walked across the street to the convent chapel where I was ordered to pray and beg God's forgiveness. Then I was walked back to the school and into the principal's outer office while she called my mother to find out "what to do with me". The outer office, coincidentally, had "the strap" sitting on the desk directly across the room for me. All I could do was stare in fear at this "weapon of persecution" while waiting for the Sister to return to further torment me.
When she returned to the outer office, I was told my mother could not be reached. Sister Satan, with no other recourse, said that she may have to consider contacting the local orphanage. No mother, mine presumably included, would want a child who would write such sinful things and spread such awfulness amongst my innocent classmates. Keep in mind, at this point I still don't know how my note had resulted in such anger. When my mother, who was reached, appeared I was instructed to beg my mother's forgiveness. I was already beside myself at this point, but the sight of my mother caused me to burst into tears and drop to my knees. I was so afraid that she was going to be equally inexplicably angry and give me up for adoption. All I knew to do was ask for her forgiveness and to tell her how sorry I was and that I would never do it (whatever it was) again. Mom lifted me into her lap and smiled saying of course she would forgive me and that she loved me. She suggested I go to the washroom and wash my face and dry my tears. While I was gone, she spoke with the nun who (in my opinion) changed my life forever and started me on the road to agoraphobic hell...
My mother asked her what I had done. She handed the note to my mother without another word. Mom read the note, giggled, and looked to Sister Satan saying only, "Okay." It turns out that this twisted nun assumed I was implying that I would be having sex during recess and was planning the activity with my 7-year old brethren. Sex. At age seven. Now, perhaps by some miraculous mutation there are some 7-year olds who are capable of the physical act of sexual intercourse. Granted, there may even be a number of 7-year olds who know exactly how important their genitals are to this activity. I, however, was not one of them. I was barely conscious of aiming at the toilet at this age. What the hell else was I going to do with that damned thing at seven years of age???
For the next few months, Mom didn't leave my sight. If she went to the basement to do laundry, I went to the top of the stairs. And while she was down there I checked the doors repeatedly to ensure she was not sneaking out. I even went so far as to watch out the living room window to ensure she was not slipping out the garage to get away from me. I was so fearful that my mother was going to abandon me (the sinner who wrote a note) that if she was in the washroom I was tiptoeing up the stairs to ensure I could hear her still there. It wasn't until February of the following year that my fears would see their first reinforcement.
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