I Wish I Could Be Like That

This is the latest in a series where I explain that I’m not mad at you for acting how you’re acting; I’m jealous of you because you feel you are able to act how you’re acting.

070408_3239Over the 4th of July my family and I went to a parade.  It was your typical hometown parade full of fire trucks and pageant queens and VFWs.  It was the first time both of my kids, Lemon (3 years) and Quinoa (1 year), have really been old enough to enjoy a parade on the level of a person (as opposed to when Lemon was six months old and we took her to a parade where her main response was, “It’s very bright and cold, but there are a lot of moving things and places I could vomit into”).  Of course, being only a year old, Quinoa was running around showing everyone how smart she is because she can walk.  She walked into the parade and by the horses and by the shriners and by the horse poop and by the shriner poop (which I always thought was weird, but my mom says it’s a tradition).  At a certain point she walked over to a couple of older women sitting next to us on the sidewalk.

The Wife apologized when Quinoa tried to sit in their lawn chairs.  They responded with an “It’s ok.  She’s just looking.”  The Wife apologized when Quinoa tried to get into one of the old ladies’ purses.  They responded with the same.  The third time Lemon spoke up.  It is at this point where I wish I could be like these older ladies.

The old lady to the left said, “Oh!  She’s trying to help!” and then to The Wife, “They look so much alike!  Are they twins?”


The reason I don’t really watch that much TV: this REALLY WAS the best show on for about three years.

Never mind that one’s talking and the other one’s grunting like a tiny Tim Allen.  Never mind that one’s a foot taller.  Never mind that one pushed the other in a stroller.

These women are so used to conversations with strangers, they’re so used to not threatening or upsetting anyone, the first question out of their mouths when they wanted to engage was a ridiculous question.  But – and here’s the genius part – a question that needed a response and needed a response that warranted further conversation.  Suddenly, The Wife was drawn into a conversation with people she will never see again in her entire life; she was sharing stories with these women as if they were going to start planning a playdate and they needed to figure out if Chuck E. Cheese (formerly Showbiz Pizza) would be too expensive for the distant relatives.

I can’t do that.  Come see me at a convention; I have absolutely nothing to say and I don’t’ know where to start.  All of my conversation starters are the equivalent of treating strangers like a hostile witness in a criminal case: only yes or no answers and if you say anything else, I’m going to cut you off.  I wish I could just talk to people like people.


2 Responses

  1. […] is the latest in a series where I explain that I’m not mad at you for acting how you’re acting; I’m jealous of you […]

  2. […] trait, I am not annoyed by you.  It’s quite the opposite; I wish I was like you (see part 1, part 2, part […]

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