Eyes Wide Open: First Memory

I am in preschool and my first boyfriend is Craig.  Later, I heard he became a druggie, but at three and a half, with a blonde floppy bowl cut, he is the dreamiest boy at Fair Oaks Parent Participation Co-Op Preschool.  

This is my first set of memories: We play house together.  Debbie and Paul, my best friend and her curly brown-haired boyfriend pretend they are the auntie and uncle and Craig and I are the mommy and daddy of the baby dolls we push in toy strollers and shopping cars along the cemented paths outside the house converted into a school.  We pass the weird kid who sang and cried and talked to himself as he sat alone in a wagon underneath the huge smiling rainbow painted on the side of the house.  He was one of the only boys who did not have a girlfriend, though he preferred to play with mostly girls. 

            One day Craig pushes me on the swings and tells me he likes my socks. They have turquoise cotton balls sewn on to the back of the ankle that peek out the top of the back of my shoes. I’m sure the rest of my outfit is perfectly pressed in turquoise and white knowing how my young mother loves to shop and dress me in only the best Izod preschool attire, charging up her credit cards to balances she and my dad will be paying well into my teen years.