Last night the three of us (me, The K and The Woman, that is) went out for dinner with friends. And by friends I mean the little girl is friends with The K (as much as 3 year-olds can be friends), the mother is friends with The Woman and I… am there. Now don’t get me wrong, I am plenty happy with the situation and this is just another way to meet new people, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel at least slightly awkward when I first meet up with these new “mom friends”. And fortunately this was a pretty awesome experience as I got to watch my little girl really interact with another little girl.
Most of the time when I get to see The K around other kids there are two situations: one in which she basically tolerates the presence of someone approximately her age or younger or one in which and older child basically tolerates her presence. She’s just not that into the typical activities of toddlers her age – what with all of that running around and potentially bumping into each other! Heaven’s no! Not my little girl. While she enjoys the occasional romp around the playground, her preference is for a more solitary experience – perhaps with the accompaniment of an adult – in those atmospheres. Other children just get in the way.
This little girl, however, is a bit older and completely capable of keeping up with The K’s ridiculous speech skills (seriously, I need to write more about her conversational abilities), which has afforded them the opportunity to develop a real bond as opposed to simply being aware of their existence. And watching them together at the dinner table was a revelation. Sitting next to each other, eating pizza the same way, giggling over jokes that really aren’t jokes, laughing hysterically at the word doody and… oh yeah, that’s when it all came to a halt.
Suddenly there was doody. And lots of it. And the fun dinner that involved two little girls talking about stuffed animals and imaginary friends ended with me running next door to buy a towel because of the most inappropriate mess you can imagine. And suddenly a great evening became the kind you’re not really supposed to share.
But you know what? It doesn’t matter, we still had fun. And we’ll do it again. Because despite what must have been a rather uncomfortable experience, The K was smiling the whole time even as I rushed her outside in search of a garden hose. And her little friend didn’t seem to mind either as they both laughed about the kind of things little girls laugh about. And we laughed to because, let’s face it, “doody” is a funny word and once you become a parent some of the most potentially unpleasant scenarios stop feeling like a big deal.
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