1 Mother 2 Another

At the pool last night Maddie met two
older girls, fifth graders who were, of course, incredibly cool to
Maddie. They were kind girls and allowed Maddie to attach herself
to them for most of the evening. They played games with her and
paid attention to her – to an extent. But after a while
enough was enough and they paused on the other side of the pool to
hang out and gossip, big-girl style.


Maddie, desperate to get their attention back, climbed out of the
pool, stood at the edge, and said, “Hey, guys! GUYS!”
The girls looked up politely.


“Watch me!” Maddie shouted. “I’m going to
say ‘Mickey Mouse’ in slow motion!”


What?

This was so completely out of left field
that I couldn’t look away. Maddie melted into a slow-motion
cannonball, saying “Mickey Mouse” like one of those
slo-mo stop-action sequences in a movie, her body folding down like
a weary French mime disenchanted with the cynical world. The whole
thing was such a non sequitur that a belly laugh erupted out of me,
delighted and caught completely off guard.


Maddie popped up, face beaming, looking expectantly at the big
girls who had turned back to their gossip session. Her face fell.
Then she heard me laughing and turned towards me, storm clouds
gathering.


“Maddie!” I said delightedly. “That was really
funny!”


“I wasn’t trying to be FUNNY,” she wailed.
“I was striving for HUMOR.” And she swam off.


I have no idea what that means, but apparently I owe her an apology
for misinterpreting her art.