This is my favorite photo of myself when I was a child. I was probably around two when it was taken. When I look at it, I think that I seem pretty proud of myself. Almost smug.
My mom told me the story behind the photo, and it went something like this. We were out shopping. I saw this hippopotamus in the store and insisted on taking it home with me. My mom tried to wield her parental power with the word “no.” This prompted a session of wailing, possibly screaming. In the South we would call it, “pitching a fit.” Is that just a southern thing?
She stuck to her guns and dragged me out of the store, sans hippo. Somehow she got me into the car and proceeded to drive the 20 miles back to where we lived in the middle of nowhere. I seriously cannot believe there is a picture on Google Maps.
But somewhere out there, she caved. “Young lady, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to turn this car around and buy you a hippopotamus!”
I guess my relentless protest finally worked. We went back to the store and I left the ecstatic and proud owner of a purple and yellow, short furred hippopotamus…and the lesson that with persistence, dreams can come true.
My mother said that I played with the thing for about two days, then never touched it again.
Some of my friends yell, “Hippopotamus!” to me when they think I’m being bratty. Which is hardly ever.