Recollections of a Different Perspective

[joshwriting]

I hated going up to bed, when I was a boy. I hated even more being made to go to sleep.

I would make clumpfing sounds as if I were climbing the stairs, to make my folks think that I had gone - and then sit on teh bottom stair, and listen to the conversations or the television or anything that let me remain connected to people.

I would, inevitably, be found and then escorted up - and a little later, I would sneak down again.

How many times we went through that dance I cannot even begin to remember!

Once I was upstairs (Get into bed. get into bed! GET INTO BED!!), I was likely to play with toys or read comics or do anything (but homework) that would put off the actualy time I got into bed.

And then, finally, the last refuge: Reading. Reading by the hallwayt light, if it was left on and the door was open a crack. Reading by the nightlight, if it was bright enough (which it seldom was). And, of course, reading by flashlight, under the blankets.

It is unclear to me if I read more under the covers than above them. I certainly know I did my part to enrich the battery companies - and batteries lasted longer then than they do now! But reading under the covers allowed me to read without getting caught.

Well... maybe not. I think I must have gotten caught about 9 times out of 10. But how do you punish a child for reading under the covers?! Somehow, taking away books seemed counter-productive - don't parents WANT kids to read?!

The sound of the footsteps, the rapid hiding of the book under the pillow and the light switching (shhhhh) off... Closing my eyes and breathing like a sleeping person (I hoped)... waiting to see if she KNEW I was awake.

I am sure that I probably did not pull the wool over her eyes even once - in retrospect - but I thought I had, on many occasions.

I still, sometimes, read under the covers... and lose sleep over my reading habits.

But I wouldn't give it up for the world!

Comments

[hhoal.livejournal.com]

I used to do this as well. My dad would come down the stairs and see my light on underneath my door and yell to go to bed. He told me to stop reading. Now he tells me to go to bed at 10 and I stay up til 12. He doesn't care unless he's woken up, but usually I'm just drawing or reading, so it's not really loud. My mom gets frustrated when I read for hours on end, she calls me antisocial when I do this. And when I read a lot, I prefer to be unsocial, because if you're talking then you can't read. Makes sense right? Well, she'd rather me sit and smile and tell her how wonderful my horrible day was, and how well I'mdoing in the classes I hate and how much my horribleteachers teach me. Okay, I lied, all of my teachers right now are fine, but it's that trig class which is killing me>.> Basically she wants me to pretend I'm always happy.... it makes her happy, and if I'm even remotely "grumpy" then she takes it as a personal afront. What a ramble.
By the way, this is Hal(Halley) from psychology.

But, I only read under the covers once in awhile. IT feels hot bringing the covers over my head. I like cool air on my face while the rest of my body is warm. meh...