Four

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Challenge: Tell a story from your childhood. (In case you haven't been following, I am doing the "Blog Every Day in May" challenge from this site.)

Here's the story of how I was "the number four."

I was four years old at the time of this story. I have some cousins who are older than I, and I wanted to be just like them. We had started playing games where we would compete, and naturally, there was always a winner. And the winner had to say, "I'm the winner! I'm #1!" 

I was new to this concept of being #1. I had not made the connection that being #1 meant you were the best.

One afternoon, I was playing alone in my grandparent's living room. I could hear my mom and a few of my aunts sitting in the dining room talking. Boring grown up stuff. I had gotten thirsty, so I pretended I was in a race, and ran as fast as I could to the fridge. As soon as I touched the refrigerator door, I triumphantly yelled, "I'm the winner! I'm the number FOUR!" I had said the number four because, duh! I was four! And four was the coolest number! (When I turned five, that then became the coolest number.)

Everybody else in the room burst out laughing. And laughing.

To this day, whenever we get together, someone always (always) tells the story of how I was winner. I was the number four. 

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