now we need to hear about the flashlight story
I thought I told you guys not to ask about the flashlight story!
Nonetheless, I have received four asks within the last 12 hours and also several curious comments.
So, you guys win. Here comes the flashlight story.
I was an avid reader. I had more books than friends. I was also an avid mischief maker. Teachers would punish my mischief by making me go out into the playground and actually play with kids my age. Eugh! It was the worst punishment imaginable.
At home, my parents found otherwise creative punishments. I once was forbidden from eating butter for a week. Another time, I wasn’t allowed to watch the finale of my favourite show for a week. (I could watch any other show I wanted, just not that one.) I wasn’t allowed to listen to music. I had to go to my neighbour’s birthday party. Cruel and unusual punishments.
But, my parents’ absolute favourite punishment? The flashlights.
See, as an avid book reader, I would stay up extremely late binge reading a book. Once I started, I couldn’t put it down. My parents would come in and scold me for having my light on. How dare I stay up so late?
Then came the flashlights.
I would have my lights off and I would read my books with a flashlight underneath the covers, a la Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban opening style!
My parents knew, but they didn’t want to punish a kid for reading. It didn’t disturb them as long as the lights were off. They let it slide.
Their new cruel and unusual punishment would be to confiscate my flashlight. But I was clever. I kept finding new flashlights. They kept letting me use it until I caused more trouble. The cycle kept spinning until the flashlights were all gone.
My parents thought they were victorious. They thought there were no more flashlights in the house. They were all locked away.
What they didn’t realize is that the previous Christmas, they had got me a Hermione Granger light-up wand. You know, those wonderful wands that people would wave while saying, “Lumos!” and pretend like they just casted a magical spell. It was glorious.
I pretended to be beside myself, constantly complaining about how I no longer had any flashlights. My parents would look smug, thinking they’ve won. Little did they know.
The Prisoner of Azkaban opening scene had become a reality.
Every night I would whisper, “Lumos!” (I could not possibly turn on my wand light without the spell, what kind of fan do you take me for?) Behold, my final flashlight. The holy grail. A toy that my parents did not think of.
That light-up wand stayed with me for nearly a year. It was only one night when my dad thought taking the trash out at 2am would be a good idea that the gig was up. My source of light had been found out.
It had caused so much drama that my dad had woken up my mom by waving the wand in front of her face. The entire next day, they were stumped. How could they have let a little girl out-smart them with a nerdy toy?
I was not allowed to have a flashlight until my sixteenth birthday.
I still have the wand somewhere. I found it in my mom’s closet while I was moving out and immediately packed it. It warms my heart that she kept it safe for all those years. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw it again when helping me unpack everything in my new flat.
The memory still haunts them. Every time I try to tell them to read Harry Potter, they bring up the wand. They will never forgive, never forget.
I’d like to think Remus Lupin would be proud of me. And while Lily Evans probably wouldn’t be too proud of my methods, I think she would appreciate the determination.
(No, this is not an advertisement for Hermione’s light-up wand, I promise. #notanad)
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