My granddaughter is a wildly vivacious child and the four-year-old girl is a party on two feet. The world is indeed her oyster and Cameron the pearl as she establishes her superior status in every situation. She butts herself into conversations with strangers, interrupting and correcting them, an example would be the Harley guy. Mr. Handlebar moustachios was buffing the chrome on his machine when she blurted, "my daddy has a motorcycle and it's bigger than yours!" No, he doesn't, he has a snowmobile and we should just walk calmly and deliberately away from this scenario. The next day she tells the computer fix-it guy to leave right now because she wants to go to the park. And now she's grinding her princess sneaker into the paw of the shopping mall Easter bunny "'cause I had to see what was in there." Yeah, we're worried.
She dresses in garrish and loud clothing, more costume than apparel. Today she is in a Minnie Mouse dress with giant pink polka dots and puffy sleeves, lilac tights, white open-toed sandals with princess buttons that light up and blue and purple polka dot socks. She looks like my grandmother.
Cameron is a crazy outgoing extrovert and she collects people. We are at the waterpark and she scans the crowd for a potential playmate. She approaches a little girl and takes her hand and now they are splashing and giggling, strangers a mere five minutes ago. The girl's parents are watching and approving and they are headed towards my table with their nachos and cheese and extra chairs. I look the other way hoping what's probably going to happen won't, but the father is bending over me and saying, "OK for us to sit?" "Oh, of course," I mumble knowing my face does not reflect the interest that was necessary. They are from Cedar Rapids, ninety miles away and they know somebody from my home town named Tim. Strangely, I could not place the guy. These are nice people, yes they are but it just doesn't register for me, it never does. I am always sitting in the circle just outside what is actually happening.
Cameron is a crazy outgoing extrovert and she collects people. We are at the waterpark and she scans the crowd for a potential playmate. She approaches a little girl and takes her hand and now they are splashing and giggling, strangers a mere five minutes ago. The girl's parents are watching and approving and they are headed towards my table with their nachos and cheese and extra chairs. I look the other way hoping what's probably going to happen won't, but the father is bending over me and saying, "OK for us to sit?" "Oh, of course," I mumble knowing my face does not reflect the interest that was necessary. They are from Cedar Rapids, ninety miles away and they know somebody from my home town named Tim. Strangely, I could not place the guy. These are nice people, yes they are but it just doesn't register for me, it never does. I am always sitting in the circle just outside what is actually happening.
1 comment:
What the f.... I should be nice, maybe he will give us free transportation when we venture to Londontown.
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