I love Soldiers Trucks and Sand

What do you want to be when you grow up? Other girls were saying “princess, ballerina, secretary, nurse, and teacher.” I said, “I want to be a race car who owns a fire truck.” None of the laughing ones knew I meant it. None of the other girls knew why I was the way I was. They knew I was strange though, Avoiding me at all costs. The boys, on the other hand, thought it made sense. They took me under their wings and let me play. I was happier with them anyway, As they never said “he said that you said that we said that she said that he said.” All was well. Playing with trucks and soldiers In the sand is preferable to Playing with small dead Plastic children Anyway.