The youngest and cutest child in my family, I quickly learned that everything I said fell on appreciative ears and I should probably try to monetize this skill as quickly as possible.
My favourite time in school was “show and tell”, or as my teachers soon realized it was, “Erica’s time”.
My parents raced horses when I was young and most of my stories involved exciting stories from the track, like my father killing a mouse with a two-by-four or the goat that head-butted my ten year old self into a pile of manure.
I mostly used this time to talk at length about my horses and look into the eyes of all the other girls in my class and feel the jealousy bubble up inside their hearts. Horses were pretty much what every ten year old girls wants and I had them. Yes, most of my clothes were purchased at the Salvation Army thrift shop, a fact that actually had a lot to do with the horses, but in the five minutes I was up in front of everyone, I got to be the one that had the thing others were jealous of.
In retrospect, I was being a bit of a bitch. Perhaps it was karma that gave me type1 diabetes the next year and sent my parents marriage into a tail-spin – who knows?