Challenge Post 4: My Earliest Childhood Memory

I'm four days into this posting challenge. Today is about my earliest childhood memory. My childhood before age 12 is pretty blurry. Things come in picture view or hazy revisits but there's not a lot there. 

So I will share my favorite childhood memory, from which I have a detailed account. So here we go.

My mother got me very into American Girl Dolls. And I had Samantha. I was obsessed with the idea of collecting all the things from the catalog. I requested them specifically and carefully for each Christmas and Birthday. 

I was old enough to read the labels on boxes and this Christmas I'd asked for Samantha's big ticket item and what she needed most for her room: her storage and clothing trunk. I'm pretty sure I was onto the whole Santa Scandal. I was a late bloomer with a vivid imagination and I loved to believe in anything magical so I kind of was under the impression that my parents took over for Santa, so he could concentrate on the younger kids, ya know?

I started stalking the mail and watching for boxes. None of the return labels said "American Girl" but I think I was aware of where the company was based out of. Regardless, there was one box that arrived like a week before Christmas and it was the right size but I was only about 75% sure. 

I started telling my dad I knew what was in there, practically licking my lips because I could taste my success! I GOT THE TRUNK! It was so close to being mine. "That's my trunk, Dad. I know it! I'm getting it!" My dad looked at me plain-faced, "How do you know that's even for you? You don't know that's what you think it is." He did not change my conviction. I did not accept his response.

Finally he said, "That's not your trunk. Grandma ordered us a new lamp set for the North Carolina house. That's what it is." I refused to believe something so easily explained. I knew what I knew!

I kept at him some more about how I was just so sure. So sure! That box stayed as it was until Christmas morning. It wasn't wrapped or anything. It just stared at me. I think it was the last box, or close to it, and I was thus far trunk-less. I started to mentally sink. I didn't get it after all. I was defeated!

My dad had me help with the lamp. There was a hole in the corner of the box and he pulled out a cord and then lured me over to help with the rest. He won. It was a dumb lamp, or so I was convinced until he popped it open and said "Wait a minute, what's is this?!" I looked excitedly and there it was: Samantha's trunk, in all it's glory. And in the bottom corner of the box, the end of an extension cord.

I love this memory because to me it captures the greatness of my childhood before my family fell apart in later years. My dad was devoted to keeping that magic and wonder, and defying my growth by playing along with me instead of letting me win, and I hold that dear. 

I tell this story as often as I can because it was wonderful ruse!