A Child in a Box

 

   

 Yep. That’s me. Sitting in a cardboard box and screaming at the camera, that’s me. I don’t even remember why I was screaming. I was a weird kid, but don't mistake that for crazy. I was pretty tame at that point.

As a kid, my biggest worry was that I would become a bad person (by what metric I was measuring that, I have no clue). I thought my life goal was to be so good, I’d be remembered for it. I remember swearing was a nono for as long as I lived (8th grade, oh boy). It was little things like that made life as a baby so fun. I would take my mom’s nightgown and sleep in it cause it was comfortable, or I would play-fight with my dad or brother. You know, baby things. 

                             

It’s enjoyable to see and hear what you were like as a baby. You learn your own character developed and how you turned out. It really shows that a baby with a fist in his mouth in his mother’s nightgown can get into AP English. The thought arises from time to time if baby Aatreya would approve of how he grew up. If I met him, would he be proud of all we’ve accomplished? Or would he cower behind his mom because I gave him nightmares? After some thought a few years ago, I remember coming to the conclusion that he would disapprove of how we turned out. Maybe we wasted too much time play-fighting or having fun, so now we’re stuck in a box.