Monday, December 17, 2012

Facebook Monday: On being overly friendly

As seen on the Facebook page this week, here's a representative moment of Addison at the park:

Addison: Hi! My name starts with "A." 
Parent: That's nice.

Addison: A-D-D-I-S-O-N. Addison. That's my name. It starts with a "A."

Parent: Right. That makes sense.

Addison: Why that baby not talk?

Parent: She doesn't know how yet.

Addison: Why?

Parent: She's too little.

Addison: Why?

Parent: She just is.

Addison: I can talk. I can talk a lot. I can say my name, A-D-D-I-S-O-N. It starts with...

Parent: An "A." I got it.

Addison: Yeah! That's my daddy. He is big. I am little. Why that baby not talk? Why that baby - Hey! I'm talking! - Why that baby not talk?

Parent: She just can't. I've got to go. Have a nice day, kid.
Basically, she's my complete opposite, and loves talking to people. And within a minute of meeting another kid, she'll be holding their hand and leading them around the playground, jabbering at them about her name or The Little Mermaid or every owie she's ever had.

Why is this girl holding my hand?
And when one of the other kids (whom she'd only met twenty minutes prior) had to leave the playground the other day, she came and yanked on my pants and said:
Addison: Where my friend going? 
Me: Well, sometimes kids need to go have lunch or take a nap.

Addison: I just miss her so much. I think maybe I should go with them.

Me: What am I, chopped liver?

Addison: No daddy. You're just my daddy. Bye bye!
After which she sprinted away from me after her "friend" who was already in the parking lot.

But, ah man, I'm too young to be an empty-nester. I'd miss her. So I dragged her back, kicking and screaming. Someday, since I love her, I'm gonna have to set her free (how terrifying this feels in the aftermath of the last few days), and then I suppose we'll find out if she comes back or not and if she was ever really mine. 


  1. I love how kids provide the "buffer," saving me from small talk with everyone out in public by dominating it themselves.

    And, as a daughter, I can assure that Addison will always be "Daddy's girl."

    1. It's such a double-edged sword. On one hand, she'll run up and start conversations with people who had no intention of talking to me in the first place, and sooner or later I have to join the fray.

      On the other hand, at any point that I reach my overload point with anyone, all I have to do is make some vague comment about Addison's diaper or how I've got to get her down for a nap or something. Also, as long as I'm holding her, I can get through the awkward beginnings of conversations because people always address her first, and I can just sort of be along for the ride.

    2. Very true about having to join the fray! Good point.

  2. Today on the bus home, she was wounded by the 5-year-old boy who wouldn't speak to her. "Why dat boy not talk to me? Why he not say, 'Hi. What's your name?'" We had to debrief for a good 10 minutes about ALL the possible reasons why he did not want to talk to her.

    1. I'm thinking about it now, and that's a LOT of possible reasons.

      #47. She might be merely a vessel for an alien host, trying to insinuate herself into the lives of unsuspecting kids before stealing all their stuffed animals for vicious probing on the mother ship...

  3. Mine came back from university for Christmas. I missed her but this was the biggest surprise: she missed me too. As they say, our kids need roots and wings.

    1. Roots and wings...that's a good way to think about it.

  4. Eliza Lane would definitely hold her hand and talk to strangers with her! Too bad we don't live closer because Eliza Lane often tells me that I am free to go, but she will stay with or where we are without me... Pretty funny!

    1. As long as they don't try to get emancipated from us... I suppose it will turn out for the best.

  5. Hehehe. This so reminds me of my mother's stories about me. Apparently I would do things like tell random strangers my name and address, ask, in sagacious tones, an old lady in a shop, "And how many children do you have?" and stroke my hand back and forth on a family friend's couch and announce, "Ooh, I see you've got velvet" (Mum swears she'd never told me about velvet but evidently I'd picked up from somewhere how to identify it and that it was expensive). You are not alone.