In the chair

I guess you can say it started when my mother promised me a toucan, one like Sam on the back of the fruit loops box. I had wanted one of those beautiful multi-colored birds for some time and when my mother said that I might get one for my birthday, well of course I thought she would totally get me one. I creped around our middle class, light yellow, picked fenced home for two months trying to find their "hiding spot" for Toucy, but I failed to find it. When the morning of my seventh birthday rolled around I was still intoxicated with the thought of putting one of those bird harnesses on Toucy and parading him up and down the street, showing him off to all of my friends.
I awoke to the smell of pancakes and maple syrup. Jumping out of my bed, I sashayed into the kitchen with an "I know you are going to keep him hidden from me until I'm about to burst" look. My mother was there with her Martha Stewart apron and, well, her Martha Stewart smile on telling me to sit down and enjoy my pancakes...but remember to sit up straight and keep your elbows off of the table. I never understood why she tried so hard to to make us into the Cleavers.I mean, I held my own in the spitting contest with the boys in my class and my sister Rachael drank chocolate syrup out of the bottle like it was a religion.
Anyway, the whole day went by without a hitch. Yeah, right. Like anything goes by without a hitch at that house. I spent the good part of the day changing my baby cousin's diaper and then my grandma walks in with her new boyfriend who just happened to be the same age as my mother, which of course made her cry which upset my cousin and you know where that went.
Well, needless to say, I never got the toucan for my birthday. Actually, all that I did get was socks and a new easy bake oven. Mother was always trying to teach me to be a "lady". Obviously, she failed me...or did I fail her? Anyway, that is the whole reason I'm in your office today talking to you about my life as a child. What do you say doc? Am I crazy? Do I have issues incurable by the everyday psychiatrist like yourself?
All he had to say to me that day was "no". Plain and simple.