The Kitten That Liked Ice Cream

It's time for Spring cleaning and as I was decluttering my condo, I came across this:  

It is a compilation of stories that myself and the other twenty-five students in Mrs. Larson's grade two class wrote way back in the day. According to the preface:

"What a joy! Your children are sensitive to themselves, their world and the power of their language. At such a young age, they are willing and able to put into words their feelings, ideas, wonderings and fantasies."

Which is hilarious considering this was my submission: 



But equally interesting is my bio. I've always believed that someone's core self is a mirror of who they were as a child. In that regard, my current life could also be summed up as follows: 

"I like puppies. I like making things. I like to read. I went many places."

"I like puppies. I like making things. I like to read. I went many places."

My essence has never changed, although my name has. Because there were two Deborahs in my grade, I was relegated (not by choice) to become "Debbie". I went along with it because I was a terribly shy child who just did what she was told and never really raised her voice. Perhaps this is the part of me that has evolved over the years; I don't really answer to anyone anymore. Anyway, I really can't put into words how much I hate the moniker and have erased any trace of it.

I am (and always have been) Deborah Michelle Clague, a girl who likes puppies, reading and traveling.