Breakfast for Dinner isn’t Fun – it’s Survival

<p>I&rsquo;m eight years old, at baseball semi-finals with my family. It&rsquo;s round robin but I don&rsquo;t really know what that means. Aunties, uncles, cousins, grandparents, siblings, Mum. It&rsquo;s not Dad&rsquo;s weekend with us.</p> <p>My Auntie is entering a fundraiser game. You have to pick a number from a list and one is drawn out of a hat.</p> <p>I pick the first choice I see with &ldquo;six&rdquo; in it. It&rsquo;s my lucky number. I once won a book and a library bag with it. Grandma told me it&rsquo;s the devil&rsquo;s number and seven is better &mdash; it rhymes with heaven. But I stick with six.</p> <p>We win the fundraiser but not the semi-final. I really wanted to win the semi-finals, but I&rsquo;m holding a $50 note in my hand. It&rsquo;s a lot of money. My Auntie paid the gold coin entry fee so I hand the yellow note to her, but she shakes her head.</p> <p>&ldquo;You picked the number, so you win the prize.&rdquo;</p> <p>In the car on the way home I proudly show my sisters the yellow note. My brother stretches around from the front seat to look. It&rsquo;s a lot of money. They ask to hold it but I don&rsquo;t want to let go.&nbsp;Once you let go of money it doesn&rsquo;t come back.</p> <p>I see mum&rsquo;s eyes looking at me in the rear-view mirror. She asks if she could borrow it, we could get McDonald&rsquo;s for dinner.</p> <p><a href="https://medium.com/the-memoirist/breakfast-for-dinner-isnt-fun-it-s-survival-5fb04b207f6">Website</a></p>