Top is the bottom?

THEN
A long way from the little duplex where her crib is enroomed, Tiffany plays with the ragged Annie. Bertha tugs on the leg, but cannot take it from her grasp. "You go to that side", Tiffany directs her. Then little Ben is crawling into the mix. Tiffany tightens her drawn up legs and crab-crawls sideways, away from the friends, but not from under the 'playhouse'.

Mims Tanny comes from the stove and beckons them all to the coffee table. "Come on, Tiff'ny- git the kids and lets eat some soup".
Scrambling all over his own knees, Ben beats a path to his high chair, which is not 'high' at all, but a sawed-off version of a chair with a tray.
There are finger sandwiches of peanut butter and little plastic bowls of thick soup, made spongy with crackers. "You come on, Bertha", growls Tiffany- the self-made 'mouthpiece' of this motley group. "Vicki is asleep and you can eat where she sits".

Now
Hearing this story from Old Granny, I watch Tiffany move from the stove to the kitchen bar, stirring her cheese soup, and snitching from her plate of fries. She is a lovely young lady of senior teens, about to embark on her first public employment, and a bit skeptical of 'liking or being liked'. We leave off our conversation to visit and snack with her.
"What about Public Relations? Think they would say you are too young?" (i am inquiring), "Tell them about your penchant for bossing. "(Chuckling here)
"I'm not sure If I could manage relationships between older brats the way I did the younger brats- an' besides... (putting the food on the table to sit beside us, she went on...) we can't do it under the table the way I did when I was a kid. We did pretty good under there.

Always noticeable is Tiffany's lack of confidence- not to mention, poor eating habits- (corn, cheese, pasta, frenchfries, burgers and ketchup).
Even so, she is slim, very pale, and often biting her lip nervously.

Later, Granny tells me- "You know, every one of them children ol' Mims was raisin' for their parents, wuz mentally retarded 'cept Tiffany. Nobody tol' their Momma and Daddy, but look like they shoulda knowed, seein' as how they acted. But 'Mama Mims' bragged on Tiffany, and says how she couldn't get through the day, but what Tiffany helped her SO MUCH with all the kids. Doncha guess so, that they wuz not bright enough to play by theirself... she helped them."
"Maybe she could BE a teacher or an aid, in classes for mentally challenged" I suggested.
"Donno if she will even go to college." Old Granny continued. "Seems she don't have any more will to learn- don't believe she can do any thin' most of the time. I always lay it to all the dull years she spent with all them kids and Mimi. Then, no sooner than she went to big school and that new nursery, they divorced. An' she went silent."

I remembered the years Tiffany didn't talk much. When she did, it was utterances few thought had any substance. But her Mother kept after her, relentlessly- after she came from work and picked her up from nursery. Slowly, normal rebellion and pre-teen friends cleared Tiffany's mind of old memories.
It was NOW, she balked.
What was TODAY, SHE WOULD NOT ACCEPT.
It was plain, even to Tiffany- her mother and maternal relatives did not like her any more than they did her daddy. She was hounded ruthlessly about her hair, her vocabulary, her silence, just about everything. And she insisted to every one who would listen. "I don't want to live here anymore."

Coming to live with Old Granny had made a marked difference. Going through puberty in a place where she could relax, and have no pressure helped her gain a balance she had never enjoyed.

But, some deeds were done and over.
When I asked her one day, "What do you think you will really do, Tiffany? Do you dream of your life in the future at all?"
"Yeah, sure I do. I am going to find me a husband, clean house and have a bunch of kids, I think. " she grinned. "And I am going to keep them playing under the kitchen table, out of my way."