Amy’s Hat

By Julie Brazier

Amy was a little girl

About five years of age.

Her mother said the youngster

Was going through a stage.

Amy had some fetishes

That made her mother sigh,

Like always eating radishes

And saying she could fly.

Stranger, still, than even that,

Was something quite unique.

She always wore a soft knit hat

Each day of every week.

She wore it in the bathtub.

She wore it when she ate.

She wore it when she went to bed,

And when she’d roller-skate.

She wore it at her aunt’s house.

And at the dentist’s too.

She wore it to the matinee

And when she had the flu.

No matter what her mother did

Or what her teacher said,

The girl couldn’t be convinced

To take it off her head.

Even Amy’s three best friends,

Susie, Ben, and Matt,

Could never get their little friend

To doff her soft knit hat.

Sometimes they would ask her,

“Why wear that hat, my friend?”

But Amy’d tell them firmly,

“Don’t ask me that again!”

She knew that all her reasons

Were good ones and not bad.

She wore the soft knit hat

To keep the friends she had.

She wore it so the girls

And Matt would never know

The long hair she once had

Was gone—it wouldn’t grow.

They thought that something serious

Had happened to her head.

And Amy would have laughed

At where their strange thoughts led.

Susie thought that Amy

Had spilled some purple paint

To somehow stain her hair.

It made her want to faint!

Matt was sure the reason—

He thought it through with dread—

Was because she had a hole

Through the top part of her head.

Ben said, “How ridiculous!

I’m sure it’s some disease.

She must have gone out camping

And caught it from some fleas.”

So Susie, Ben, and Matt

Went on thinking what they thought.

They said, “Let’s never mention

We know just what she’s got.

“Let’s just ignore the hat,

And pretend it isn’t there.

That’s how we all can help her,

And show her that we care.”

Well, that worked fine until the day

That Matt forgot and said,

“Amy, take your hat off

So we can see your head.

I’d really like to see that hole,

I promise I won’t faint.”

Ben asked, “How’s your disease?”

And Sue yelled, “Purple paint!”

And while they were forgetting

To ignore the soft knit hat,

Amy looked quite flustered

And said, “Now, how’s that?”

Sue explained and added,

“We’d like to know who’s right.

So please take off your hat

And let us see the sight.”

Amy thought about it.

Then lifted up her hand

And slowly took her hat off.

She hoped they’d understand.

Matt said, “Whatever is it?

I see no purple head.

Nor do I see a hole

Nor flea bumps large and red.”

Then Amy smiled a little

And said, “It’s just my hair.

Could you all still like me

With such a mess up there?”

Well, Matt was disappointed

That his theory wasn’t true.

But he said, “Don’t be silly!

Of course we still like you.

“It never really mattered

What was on your head.

We even would have liked you

With lumps and bumps of red!”

Amy took the hat off

That had made her mother sigh.

And said, “My friends still like me.

Besides, you know, I fly.”

Illustrated by Pat Hoggan