What
are you doing, William?" asked Mommy as I tried to pick up a copy of
Romeo and Juliet. I had heard a spate of criticism lately about this
book by my namesake, William Shakespeare, from some of my colleagues in
day care. They, too, complained that every time they tried to read some
of his works, adults took the books away.
Adults - they make me so mad sometimes. They think we don't understand them, that we are dumb because we are little, just because they can't make out the words of our secret language. They don't know about our drama club and book discussion group at the day care.
I reached again for the book by Shakespeare and mom slapped my hand, telling me I should not be holding books. I screamed out one of my favorite insults by Shakespeare, "These words are razors to my wounded heart."
She did not understand. Alas, I could not yet speak the language of the adults. That came later, Frank said. Frank is three, a year older than me.
Instead, mom, as she calls herself although her real name is Joanne, bought me a book called Jack and Jill.
I was sick of the book but thought maybe I could interest myself with a deconstructionist analysis of the story and what the bucket and water they carry represents.
As we drove home, I worked on my essay analyzing the use of blood in Shakespeare's plays. Mom thought I was just doodling on the new book and made me stop.
As Shakespeare said, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."
Adults, they are just so ignorant sometimes.
Adults - they make me so mad sometimes. They think we don't understand them, that we are dumb because we are little, just because they can't make out the words of our secret language. They don't know about our drama club and book discussion group at the day care.
I reached again for the book by Shakespeare and mom slapped my hand, telling me I should not be holding books. I screamed out one of my favorite insults by Shakespeare, "These words are razors to my wounded heart."
She did not understand. Alas, I could not yet speak the language of the adults. That came later, Frank said. Frank is three, a year older than me.
Instead, mom, as she calls herself although her real name is Joanne, bought me a book called Jack and Jill.
I was sick of the book but thought maybe I could interest myself with a deconstructionist analysis of the story and what the bucket and water they carry represents.
As we drove home, I worked on my essay analyzing the use of blood in Shakespeare's plays. Mom thought I was just doodling on the new book and made me stop.
As Shakespeare said, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."
Adults, they are just so ignorant sometimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment