Saturday, June 6, 2015

The Powers of Observation Have Arrived.

Dear Diary, 

     My three year old has reached the point where her intelligence and powers of observation are ruining our lives. 

     She and I had popped in to a lab so I could have some blood tested. I was filling out some papers when the lady helping me on the other side of the counter began to talk. It was clear to me that she was a tomboy, and possibly a lesbian. She had pixie cut hair, tattoos crawling up her neck out of her scrubs, rough jargon, and a picture of a woman in a frame on her desk. This did not bother me, but I am fairly observant by nature and happened to notice these things.

    My daughter, who is a whopping 36 inches tall, could not see over the counter top. So she yhistered (this is a mix between a yell and a whisper, something that 99% of children have down to a science) to me, "MOM. I want to see that lady!" The lady said, "You can come around and see me if you want!" So my daughter took a peek around the corner and got a glance of this mysterious woman. As she came back to me, she looked up and yhistered, "IT'S NOT A LADY, MOM. IT'S A MAAAAAN." 

                       This was my face...

     Once the moment of shock had passed, I gathered my chi and replied to her, "That's not a man, silly. She just has short hair. She's smart to have short hair, because it's toooooo hot for long hair in Arizona." -***Says the girl with Rapunzel hair. I've been known to take a few risqué selfies and text them to my husband during the day because my hair is long enough to cover my breasts pectoral muscles. But that's a story for another day. 

     The next day, this same child and I were finishing up our weekly trip to the grocery store. As I was mulling over regular, low fat or no fat cottage cheese, I hear a man wheeling a large pallet of inventory to the back room behind the dairy section. This man was Hispanic, had perfectly combed over hair and was quite obviously short. I look over at my daughter, who was driving the cart. (***See Exhibit A)
          
                    ***Exhibit A. The carts that feel more like Greyhound buses. The ones where, if you aren't a perfectly excellent driver, you will get wedged into the edge of the aisle where you'll basically need a crane to pull you out of your terrible situation. 

     I watched her as she followed him with her eyes when he walked by, craning her head out the window of her fancy car(t). Then she yelled, "YOU'RE SOOO LITTLE!" 

     I wasn't sure what had happened, but I found myself both shocked and entertained all at once. I turned around as to not face the man my 3 year old human had just insulted, and I stared down the coffee creamer (I don't even drink coffee) making a face similar to this one, I'm sure of it. 

                       "Are you kidding me...?"


     So to all of those who will one day come in contact with my daughter, just know I will be working on that brain-to-mouth filter thing everyone talks about. But she is my child, so I can't make too many promises. 

Sincerely, 

Me. Embarrassed Mom. 

2 comments:

  1. My daughter just turned five, and we're still working on an honesty filter. Just last week she told me I looked like Gloria the hippo from Madagascar as I was getting out of the shower. She fully intended this to be a compliment.

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