Send in the ClownAs I was walking around the mall today, I noticed some clowns hanging around. I think they were there as part of the Easter Bunny and Easter train celebration.
However, they brought back a memory.
When I was about seven, my mother took clown classes at Greece Community Education. It was very exciting to be a child and have a parent who was a clown. How
cool is that? I remember my mom investing in honest-to-god clown makeup, a rainbow wig and a purple and yellow clown suit. Once, when she came home from class fully made-up, she woke me up, so I could see her full clown regalia. She even knows how to make balloon animals. I thought I was the luckiest kid on earth.
I was talking to my mother about this the other day when I took her out.
"Remember when you used to be a clown?", I asked her, excited.
"Yeah." She said.
"That was
so cool," I told her. I still thought it was cool.
"Yeah, well, I never graduated from clown school," she said. "I dropped out when we had to create our little routines. I didn't want to perform in front of people."
I was so disappointed. "You mean you dropped out of clown school?"
My mother shrugged and changed the topic. I sat there, stunned. Another pleasant balloon of childhood memory has burst.
