I was a sassy preschooler. Are you shocked? Yes, you are shocked, I can tell.
Well, I was sassy and the self-appointed savior of the female race on my Catholic preschool playground. Everyday you had a few choices of things to do on the playground.
You could 1) play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but only 7 people could play at a time and they only needed one girl to be April and it was always this girl who had several all yellow outfits.
Or you could 2) swing on the swings, which was a highly competitive, contested, and coveted activity usually swarmed by the kindergartners who greatly outmatched us preschoolers in size, strength, and determination.
Or you could 3) play Boy-Jail. Boy-Jail consisted of the boys running down hapless females on the playground, ensnaring them, and then installing them in a "jail" in the belly of the playground fort. This was a game that was played everyday and went on for the entirety of recess.
But, of course, I was sassy and also a fast runner and I would be darned if any boys were going to hold me captive.
If I wanted to make a cultural point here, I would relate how I once had a comrade in fighting the boys' evil grip on the playground but she almost immediately switched sides to become a passive female when she realized she was defying social roles by fighting the boys. And about how even as 3 year olds, the boys wanted to dominate the girls and the girls were completely okay with that and actually enjoyed it. Because the guard for the jail (and there wasn't always a guard) was extremely unenthusiastic and most the girls just walked out of jail so they could experience the fun of capture again.
I spent most of my recess days (when I wasn't destroying the notion of Santa Claus, a bold move that got me kicked out of carpool) running from boys and freeing the girls from jail. It was on one of those days I met Dallas, an older man, a kindergartner, who had an exotic name, blonde hair, and a red jacket. The boys had had enough of my freedom fighter ways, and sicked Dallas, one of the faster kindergartners, on me. Dallas ran me around and around the playground until, exhausted, I curled up against the chain link fence and grabbed a hold of it hard, I wasn't going to jail without a fight! Dallas grabbed me and then, in an unexpected move, kissed me and then just ran away.
Stunned, I sat by the fence and brushed leaves out of my hair for the rest of recess, confused as to what motivated him to do such a thing. I eventually settled on it being my dress for the day, a cute smocked affair with tiny balloons on it that my grandma Mimi had made for me. I determined that I would never wear it again as it had proved to be too provocative.
At dinner that night, I related my story at the table to the stunned reaction of my parents, in particular my Dad who just said, "What?! Do not ever let him kiss you again. Because...because...of germs. You just tell him that...germs".
Satisfied with my Dad's solution, I prepped myself for the playground the next day by wearing my most hideous kitten t-shirt and pink leggings. Upon the ringing of the recess bell, the chase was on. Like the first day, Dallas was quick to pursue and I was quick to flee. Finally, I had to stop and as Dallas came to claim his prize I quickly mentioned that my Father had expressly forbidden kissing. Dallas, a plucky boy, brightly replied, "Okay, I'll just hug you then!" hugged me and then walked off.
I'm not sure if the teachers noticed what was going on, or if my Dad made a phone call, but I didn't see Dallas again after that.
I had a lot of elementary school suitors after that, but I was mean to all of them.
