Friday, August 05, 2005
Out of the mouths of babes
Apparently, yesterday was the last day of swim lessons for the four-year-olds at the Y. As a treat, they got to spend the time playing in the outdoor pool. I happened to be heading out to the pool at the same time and noticed one little girl in the group who wasn't wearing shoes, and therefore was trailing a little behind. As I came up behind her, she turned around to look at me, turned back, then whipped around to scrutinize me again.
"You look like someone on TV," she told me. "Really, who?" I asked, secretly hoping she would say Jennifer Garner, although I was pretty sure most parents don't let their four-year-olds watch Alias. "The lady on Garfield!" she cried, as if she couldn't believe I wasn't aware of my small-screen doppelganger. Not being well-versed in the culture of four-year-olds, I had no idea if I should take this as a compliment or an insult.
Once I got up to the pool, I learned that a few of the four-year-olds (including Rachel, the girl who pointed out my TV twin) felt that swim-lesson play time gave them license to play with anyone who happened to be in the pool. One particularly gregarious little guy named Joseph asked me to help him over the rope into the lap lane, then requested that I watch as he dazzled me with a series of increasingly elaborate cannonballs. I would probably still be at the pool watching him do cannonballs if not for the mercy of the lifeguard, who managed to distract him long enough to allow me to go back to swimming laps. (That's the good thing about four-year-olds. They're easily distracted.)
My exit from the pool, however, did not go unnoticed by my new buddy. He saw me wrapping a towel around myself and asked where I was going. I told him it was time for me to go home, which elicited the universally favored query of four-year-olds: the plaintive yet simple "Why?" Not knowing how best to explain concepts like "freelance proofreading" and "ER rerun," I told him I had to eat dinner and go to bed. "But it's not even dark outside," he said, looking at me like I was crazy.
Four-year-old logic. You've gotta love it.
Apparently, yesterday was the last day of swim lessons for the four-year-olds at the Y. As a treat, they got to spend the time playing in the outdoor pool. I happened to be heading out to the pool at the same time and noticed one little girl in the group who wasn't wearing shoes, and therefore was trailing a little behind. As I came up behind her, she turned around to look at me, turned back, then whipped around to scrutinize me again.
"You look like someone on TV," she told me. "Really, who?" I asked, secretly hoping she would say Jennifer Garner, although I was pretty sure most parents don't let their four-year-olds watch Alias. "The lady on Garfield!" she cried, as if she couldn't believe I wasn't aware of my small-screen doppelganger. Not being well-versed in the culture of four-year-olds, I had no idea if I should take this as a compliment or an insult.
Once I got up to the pool, I learned that a few of the four-year-olds (including Rachel, the girl who pointed out my TV twin) felt that swim-lesson play time gave them license to play with anyone who happened to be in the pool. One particularly gregarious little guy named Joseph asked me to help him over the rope into the lap lane, then requested that I watch as he dazzled me with a series of increasingly elaborate cannonballs. I would probably still be at the pool watching him do cannonballs if not for the mercy of the lifeguard, who managed to distract him long enough to allow me to go back to swimming laps. (That's the good thing about four-year-olds. They're easily distracted.)
My exit from the pool, however, did not go unnoticed by my new buddy. He saw me wrapping a towel around myself and asked where I was going. I told him it was time for me to go home, which elicited the universally favored query of four-year-olds: the plaintive yet simple "Why?" Not knowing how best to explain concepts like "freelance proofreading" and "ER rerun," I told him I had to eat dinner and go to bed. "But it's not even dark outside," he said, looking at me like I was crazy.
Four-year-old logic. You've gotta love it.
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