Free Raising Cubby by John Elder Robison Page A

fable. “There was a Live Kid Department in one of the stores at the Holyoke Mall, and I kept seeing you up there in the window, and one day when they had a sale, I just went in and bought you.
    “You were stuck to the window in a big display basket, looking out at the shoppers as they walked through the mall. Your mom thought you were really cute, and I thought you’d grow up to be a hard worker around the house. They had you out there on display because you were the best-looking kid they had, and stores always put their best stuff out on display. They wanted to give me a wrapped kid from the stock in back, but I knew you were probably the best specimen, so I insisted on the display model, and here you are.”
    Cubby was not sure what to make of that explanation. He surely compared what I said to what he heard from his mother and grandparents. He realized that buying things in stores was something he observed almost every day. In comparison, he had never seen a stork deliver a baby. And other possibilities occurred to him, too. Just recently, he had taken some sea horses out of a box, put them in water, and seen them come to life.
Maybe the same thing happened with kids
, he might have thought.
    The thing that confused him was that he did not know
where
the Kid Store was. If he had seen a Kid Store with tykes for sale he would have accepted my explanation without question. As it was, he was unsure and somewhat troubled. That made me work even harder in hopes that my explanation would prevail. At times I wondered what would happen if he made it to his teens still believing I’d bought him in a store. The possibility was slightly alarming, but I sensed it would never happen.
    “Can we go to the Kid Store?” Cubby asked. I never knew if he wanted to buy a brother or sister, or just get validation. Either way, it was too late. All the mall had to offer was different species. “I’m sorry, Cubby. They put a pet store in where it used to be,” I said. “But they still use some of the same cages and stuff. Let’s go there and maybe you’ll recognize where you used to live.” However, he never did. Recognize it as home, that is.
    Whenever he complained about chores, cleanup, or any other parental request, which was often, I countered by reminding him of all the claims that had been made when I bought him. Cubby had heard salesmen describe products, so he knew it happened. The only question was what they had said about him.
    When he thought to ask, I reminded him never to rely on spoken claims for anything. In the car business, they call that talk salesman’s bullshit. People will say anything to get a deal. You should only rely on what you see in print, because that isn’t as likely to change.
    “I wish I still had the papers that came with you,” I told him. “They made a lot of promises, more than you got from the average car salesman, and I’m still waiting for some of them to come true.”
    Guaranteed to grow
, they said, and he sure had done that. Cubby had quadrupled in weight, in just three years. My Land Rover, in comparison, weighed pretty much the same as when I got it. “You’re good value in the growing department, for sure,” I told him. “The Land Rover consumes a hundred pounds of gasoline every week. I’ll bet you don’t even eat ten pounds.”
    Eats regular food
. That was always important to me. It’s bad enough having to put premium gas in the car. I couldn’t handle a kid that ate only premium baby food. Cubby was the human equivalent of a military vehicle—one that goes anywhere and eats whatever you feed him.
    Obedient
. “Cubby,” I said, “that was true in the beginning, but the older you get, the more rebellious you become.”
    Does all chores
. That was a tough one. “From the moment you could walk unassisted I said you were born to the yoke. Parents raise kids to help them with work around the house and elsewhere. For a dad like me, more kids equals more opportunity. If I had