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Two little girls, both about 4 years old, walked across the Mojave Desert in Southern California. They were best friends and were always together. They had innocently decided to go to the store and wanted to walk alone. Off they went, across a field of desert to the local grocery store. Each little girl had a baggie full of pennies they had collected. They walked into the store and grabbed every treat they wanted and walked to the cashier. Everyone thought it was cute how they giggled and played together so sweetly. Until it came time to pay and the little girls held up their baggies as if to say "see, we have our money" and then grabbed their treats to leave without actually giving the money to the cashier. The clerk stopped them and began asking where their parents were.

Eventually, the manager got involved and pulled the girls into the back office. When they told the manager that they had come alone, he continued the interrogation. He demanded to know their phone numbers, which neither of them could remember. He became irate and called the police. The police officer showed up and started questioning the girls. He wanted to know a phone number or address. Again, the girls did not know. He put the girls into the back seat of his car, stating that he would drive them around the neighborhood to see if they could find their house.

The two girls were scared and crying. Neither could remember where they lived. Finally, the officer turned the corner and there were the girls' moms walking the streets looking for them. The officer pulled over and delivered the girls to their worried moms.

Those little girls were me and my best friend Jessica.

After that, my mom told me that I was no longer allowed to leave a store without a receipt for everything I bought. Well at 4 years old, that has a very literal meaning. About a week later, I went to the store with my mom to do some grocery shopping. My mom gave me some change to get a gumball from the machine. I went to the cashier and asked for my receipt. She laughed and told me I didn't need one. I started crying saying that if I did not get a receipt, that the cops would come get me again. My mom finally asked the cashier for a printout and she gave it to me. I was happy and smiling.

Jessica and I were always together, and always in some sort of troubleand it was generally my idea. We went to daycare together, and the teachers could not keep us apart or keep us quiet during naptime. They tried separating us all the time. One

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