I am ELOISE. I am three.
I am an island child. I live near the beach. Because everyone does. Because it’s an island. Here’s what no one tells you about the beach: jellyfish. Whenever you get stung by a jellyfish you must raise a really loud and terrible racket. That way everyone on the beach knows exactly how much you’re suffering and can avoid the water and your own miserable fate, if they care to. It’s hard to keep up that volume for long but trust me, it’s a public service of the most selfless kind. I got stung by a blue man-of-war. Since then, I’ve taken it on as my absolute duty to warn everyone and so on and sundry that the beach is nice, but MAN-OF-WARS. And jellyfish. So watch out.
Isaac is my big brother. He’s in kindergarten. I took his class on a field trip to the pumpkin patch by the sea. I’d already been so I told everyone how to do everything. Oh my stars, they were so lucky to have me. My schedule is really so busy these days I don’t know how I fit everything in.
I have to crack the eggs when Mama makes eggs for dinner, and cover the floor with water when I take a bath so Mama can mop mop mop and have a clean floor for heaven’s sake, and every day I have to climb the ladder to Isaac’s top bunk and rummage around in the stuffed animals and books and see if anyone’s hidden a present for ME, ELOISE.
Then Mama says, “Eloise, it’s time to nap nap nap,” and I sklathe around on the floor like my legs won’t work and throw out my arms and kick and scream and really make a scene until i get my blankie and kitty and paci and my genie book and maybe my eyes droop and before I know it nap time is over and I slept on the floor. But not in my bed. Because I am three and that is winning and what else do I need in this world for heaven’s sake.
Here’s what I like: steak.
Here’s what I don’t like: brushing my hair.
Here’s what else I don’t like: jellyfish.