When Mom took me shopping as a kid, I was bored out of mind. I was way too restless to be in a mall. To amuse myself, I ended up hiding behind racks of clothes while she shopped. In the circle racks, there was always a cross bar inside in the middle, the perfect size for a five-year-old’s perch, where I could observe my mother through the round glass top. When she finally stopped looking through the sales items and started calling my name, I didn’t always immediately answer. Instead, I would watch her in her growing panic, until I’d knock on the glass top so she’s know where to look, or I’d pop out of the clothes and scare her.
I have an inch-long scar on my right knee from a nail that jutted out from the wall behind one rack of clothing. That happened when I was 2. I have no memory of this, but apparently, have been tucking myself behind clothes for a long time.
The other thing I did to entertain myself when Mom shopped was climb into empty mannequin stages and pose with my arms in mid-wave or mid-strike, however I was feeling, for as long as I could. I stopped doing that when one day two women passed me and started laughing. I stopped hiding behind clothing racks once the mall staff started getting nervous that I was shoplifting. Guess I was getting to be too old for this.
Ahh, the end of innocence.