A is for Advent: A Three-Year-Old's Perspective

O is for Overconfident

Many mortifications and horrors could be avoided if only life had soundtrack support. As soon as Timmy would hear ominous strains while in the bath, he would know Mum was going to try getting his head wet. He'd be prepared, even if the advance knowledge wouldn't stop his screaming and thrashing, anyway.

He'd, hopefully, also get some audible warning whenever he was about to fall flat on his face. He's not prepared for the metaphorical fall that comes after the proverbial pride. He's not prepared for the actual fall, either. 

It had started with a good feeling. And it is a good feeling, being popular. Being liked. It overrides all feelings of grumpiness Timmy has about Mum not letting him be the one to get the backpacks out the car because he was taking too long. She still makes him carry his, though. But he forgets all about his indignation when his loudest enthusiast spots him as he walks up the daycare centre's driveway.

"Timmy!" Ashlyn yells, putting her blonde head out the open window above him. "Timmy's here! It's Timmy! Timmy! Yay, TIMMY!"

It would take a special kind of person not to preen at that. A special kind of dead person.

Timmy's sulky walk grows a stronger beat, and becomes a swagger. He folds his arms in front of him. It wouldn't do to have them flapping about like mad things. Not now.

Ashlyn still has her head out the window, excitedly watching Timmy's path up the driveway. A dilemma strikes him. If he continues to walk as he is, he'll be showing Ashlyn his back. That doesn't seem sporting. She won't be able to see him. 

Worse, he won't be able to see her appreciation of him.

Timmy is impressed with his cleverness as he makes a quarter-turn, now facing the building and Ashlyn, and continues his journey in a side-step skip. He even manages it with his arms still folded. The new step is less of a swagger, but is still a sufficient display of style.

He's looking at Ashlyn, returning her exuberance. Soaking up every ounce of adoring attention on offer.

It's a demanding preoccupation. He doesn't have the patience or the peripheral vision to keep an eye on what his feet are doing. He doesn't see the side of his jandal skidding along the concrete because he didn't lift his foot high enough. He doesn't see the concrete rising up to meet his knees, his hands, his face.

He feels it, though. Eventually.

The pain registers only for a moment, but before it has time to translate to tears, it's taken over by another feeling. 

Shame. Ashlyn saw him fall.

Not okay. Not okay at all.

He pushes himself up, as fast as he can, rubbing at his knees. Hopefully, Ashlyn had blinked just as he fell, and she'd missed the whole thing. 

He turns to look at the window. Ashlyn is still looking out, but she's no longer excited. Her mouth and her eyes are wide.

Not okay at all.

Timmy wishes she wasn't still here. He wishes he didn't have an audience at all. He is hurt and humiliated. And angry. Angry that it happened. Angry that Ashlyn is still watching.

"No, Ashlyn!" he roars at her, and swipes at the air between him and the window. "Go 'WAY! Go 'WAY, Ashlyn!"

Ashlyn hesitates for a moment, then ducks her head back inside. Timmy continues his walk up the ramp, slowly. There's no swagger. He trudges. Now he looks at what his feet are doing. He doesn't look at anything else. Hopefully, that way, he won't see more people.

When he turns the corner of the building and faces the door, his attention is pulled upwards by the sound of excited greetings. A small group of children have been waiting for him to get to the door, having been alerted by Ashlyn's announcement. And now that they see him, they're giving him delighted smiles and waves.

None of them are looking at his scraped knees.

He needs to put his backpack on the hooks behind his welcoming party, and as he reaches the excited group and begins pushing through, they part.

Then he sees the girl behind them, giving him the biggest welcome smile of them all. Like she always does. 

Like seeing his humiliation hasn't changed anything one little bit.

Ashlyn.

If life had soundtrack support, he would have known she was there. He would have been prepared.

But sometimes he likes surprises.