I was at the Hematologist’s office the other day getting my weekly iron infusion (yeah, have not written about that yet, sorry) and afterward, I ended up waiting 2 hours for the medical transport to come pick me up.
Taking Notice
Sitting across from me were 2 kids, a boy about 10 with an iPad and earbuds in, sitting away from, who I found out later, was his grandmother. Next to grandma was a girl who told me she was 6. She looked bored to tears.
After a few minutes, I invited her over to watch videos with me on my phone. Sheepishly, she crossed the space between us, sitting in the chair next to me. I asked her what we should watch. She shrugged. I suggested baby goat videos; they are always great for a laugh.
We spent the next 20 minutes laughing at the baby goat antics, my asking her questions every once in awhile.
“How old are you?”
“6.”
“When is your birthday?”
It had just passed, so I asked her if she received any gifts and she excitedly told me…
… something I asked her to repeat several times. Confused, I pleadingly looked at Grandma for help.
Shopkins
“Shopkins,” she said.
I was still clueless, so told the little girl I had to Google it to see what that was. She looked at me, incredulous I could possibly have gone one day without this knowledge.
They are teeny-tiny toys… that revolve around… grocery shopping? Marketing groceries to a 6-year old? Good lord.
Oh, and there’s a whole Shopkins series of cartoons, too. My new friend wanted to watch one. I vetoed that.
Muddy Fairy
My head was swimming after the Shopkins talk, so I decided to show her pictures of my grandkids. She liked that, pointing out various things.
I got to my grandson at a fairy birthday party, wearing wings and a crown. I told her who it was and she said, “But, he’s a BOY! Boys can’t be fairies!” I said there he is, so clearly he could be a fairy. She didn’t believe me.
I scrolled further and found the one with my grandson covered in mud and said, “See? He can be a fairy and covered in mud. Everyone gets to do that if they want to.”
(That turned out to be the kernel I’d hoped I could impart on her young mind.)
Soon after, grandma was called back and the little girl had to go with her (my ride should have been there at any moment anyway) and she ran to go through the door.
But not before she turned around and waved one last time.
It was a good day.
Navelgazing Writer 