October Flash tale #1 - "Ditzy Dinah" Part 1 of 2

Here's a double-length flash tale, and I really, really like how this turned out. Let me know if you like it too!

I

It’s not easy, admitting that your daughter is stupid.

When she was younger, it didn’t matter. Well, I guess it mattered. More like, people didn’t really notice. All small children can be forgetful, all little kids have shirt attention spans.

When Dina started school, it was clear that she would struggle to succeed academically.

Oh! That first day, she looked perfect in her plaid jumper, she fit right in with the rest of her Kindergarten class. But I could see that look in her eye, that building confusion, and I didn’t worry about her social skills or her ABCs. I spent all day wondering if she would be able to find her way to the bathroom.

When her second-grade teacher wanted Dinah to repeat the year, I pulled her out of school, decided what my little girl needed was to be homeschooled. She just needed one on one attention, she just needed her mother’s love and encouragement.

Turned out, I wasn’t enough. Dinah isn’t cut out for book learning.

Reading and writing? Not so much. Math and science? Forget it.

Excuse me? Did we get her tested? Of course we did! Those so-called educational consultants, those fancy doctors can give my girl a test and then label her dyslexic or ADHD or ‘somewhere on the spectrum’. Truth is that Dinah’s just not that bright.

So, why should I torture my own daughter, making her go through the same lessons again and again, when it was clear she would never catch on?

On her tenth birthday, I gave up. My girl was barely able to count past twenty, she could hardly scrawl her own name. But you know what? She was happy. I could sit her down in front of the TV for hours, and she learned her life lessons from Daniel Tiger and Dora the Explorer.

The kids down the street were the same age, but the outgrew her. They matured but Dina didn’t. They’d still let her come and play, but how much of that was out of pity? Everyone knew Dina was ‘special’.

Her selling point in the neighborhood, the reason other parents described her as a ‘perfect little angel’, was that Dinah at least used her manners. And she’d wear whatever I laid out of her. An eager fairy princess every Halloween who waved her wand at the neighbors and promised to grant wishes; pigtails and flowered dresses to church every Sunday, looking up at the pastor with rapt devotion.

Docile and sweet, she was not a girl for pre-teen or adolescent tantrums and sulks. That’s why the other parents adored her, that’s why the other kids indulged her.

And me? Did I enjoy my sweet little doll? My baby girl? Is there a mother out there who wouldn’t be jealous, when my teenage daughter is still asking for bedtime hugs and kisses?

You wouldn’t have known she was a teenager from her bedroom – a bed overflowing with stuffies – or her tastes in entertainment – seemed like Dinah was pursuing a lifelong membership of the Jojo Siwa fan club.

And how about the ditzy thoughts in Dinah’s head? Was it her goal to be like this forever?

I don’t think so. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to grow up. Dinah was always talking about wanting a boyfriend or leaving home to have adventures. This from the girl that the neighbors nicknamed ‘Ditzy Dinah’ – a name she came to embrace and even use herself. Hard to stay mad at a lost toy or broken dish when she calls herself a ditz, hangs her head in apology and then looks up at you with those doe eyes.

But could she grow up? Could she strike out on her own? Dinah’s idea of a boyfriend is a handsome prince straight out of Cinderella. She was raised on fairy tales and bedtime stories, and on her eighteenth birthday, I was forced to admit the truth – my daughter would never be ready to face the real world. The moment she set foot outside the house without my supervision, she’d be eaten alive.

So when she started talking about getting her drivers license, going on a road trip with friends – yes those same friends down the street who call her ‘Ditzy Dinah’, a nickname that manages to be sweet and cruel at the same time.

Well, was her mother about to let her go off and make a complete fool of herself? Let her be taken advantage of?

Not likely!

I told Dinah to wait a couple of weeks, until November, and then all her dreams would come true. I let her keep on dreaming about going on an adventure like Dora, about making new friends like Daniel. In the meantime, I called an old friend in Kentucky, someone who knew a way to make things right.