I have really been lagging on writing blog posts and I recognize that I need to step up my game. Partly this is because I have been out socializing and doing things, so I don’t have much time, which is actually good for my blog in the long run because now I have more exciting things to blog about as opposed to “so today on Pinterest”.
But partly it’s because I have the growing suspicion that I’m developing ADD. The internet is fucking with my ability to concentrate on one thing for more than 5 minutes at a time because there’s so many goddamn notifications and updates and stupid news articles that some unknown force compels me to click on, and it’s actually a serious problem because I can’t get anything done at work either, not just blog posts which wouldn’t be as bad. That’s partly why I got a blog in the first place- so I could re-learn how to concentrate on something for more than five minutes at a time.
(No, I don’t actually have real ADD, and I know this because I took Adderall once to get rid of a hangover -advice from my sometimes shady subletter at the time- and instead of making me function like a normal person, it GAVE ME SUPERPOWERS. It felt exactly like how Harry felt when he took Felix Felicis in the 6th HP book or how Bradley Cooper felt when he took that pill in the movie Limitless, like every possibility in the world was suddenly open to me. I was suddenly smarter, wittier, friendlier, and more awesome. In fact, I almost got fired from my internship that day for being too awesome, but that’s a story for another time.)
Anyway, now to the actual post.
So last weekend I decided to put on a swimsuit and lay on a blanket in the sun in the hopes of soaking up the last bit of fading summer for myself (it ends so much sooner up in the Bay!).
I was innocently playing with my iPhone and minding my own business when suddenly a person lied down right next to me in the grass and said, “What are you doing?”
My immediate instinct was to feel threatened, because usually when strangers intrude on my personal space and ask me blunt questions like that they are usually drunk creepy men on the BART at 12AM.
But this wasn’t a beer-stained Cheetos-consuming douchebag dude – it was a little girl with pigtails and overalls with flowers on them. Not exactly the epitome of a threatening image.
I said, “I’m…. listening to music and lying in the grass?”, feeling a little foolish for giving such an obvious answer but I figured she probably wasn’t old enough to figure out how to judge people yet.
“What you listening to?” She stuck her face right above my iPhone and peered at the screen. Normally, this question causes me a lot of anxiety, because usually I am listening to either Nsync or Disney songs (it’s gotten worse with the whole Spotify thing, where now everyone on Facebook can see that I am listening to Nsync and Disney instead of some cool underground alternative band shit), but it so happens that this genre is a perfect fit for a pre-schooler.
“Disney,” I said. “Wanna listen with me?”
She grabbed the phone and to my surprise, deftly hit the back button, scrolled down the list of songs, picked one, and turned up the volume. Jesus. My dad can’t even figure out how to do that with a smartphone yet.
Her friend came over at this point (they were part of some playgroup organized by a few middle aged mommies and college students a few feet away).
“How old are you two?”
“Four and a half,” they chimed in unison. (I remember when I would always include the “half” when saying my age. Sometimes “three quarters” too. I should try it out now, and say “22 and a quarter” to the next person that asks, just to see how they react.)
“And how old do you think I am?”
“Fourteen!” they exclaimed. Very confidently, I might add. Great for my self esteem.
“Not quite.. a little bit older.” “Fifteen! Sixteen! Seventeen…” They had a while to go. Finally.. “Twenty two!”
“Yeah! Do I look twenty two to you?” I said. “Yes!!!” These were very agreeable four year olds.
At that point, we all put our heads close to the phone speakers and sang along to “Honor to us All” and “Part of Your World”. It was pretty freakin’ fun and I was having a great time, until one of the middle aged mommies came over and tried to convince them to join the rest of the group in what looked like a very boring game of the Human knot (I hate that game). They flatly refused, saying they would rather stay with me. I worked hard to keep the smug look off my face (Yeah, I’m more entertaining than an organized playgroup; Baby Sitters Club ain’t got nothing on this).
“The girl doesn’t want to play with you,” the lady said (yes I did).
“It looks like she is about to leave anyway,” she tried again (no I wasn’t).
She half-dragged the little girls away, the group started up a game of duck-duck goose, and all memory of me was quickly forgotten as duck-duck goose is the trump card for fun among preschoolers.
But my memory was untarnished, and I sat there on the grass for a while with a nice, warm feeling of happiness. We waste so much time worrying about what other people think of us, when really it doesn’t have to be that way. Little kids don’t care what anyone thinks of them. It’s a long-forgotten freedom we once had that is exhilarating to experience now (like when we go to bars by ourselves!)
So my conclusion? I guess I just have to hang out with more four year olds. Can I rent a child? Is that a thing?
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