13 Clocks
Yesterday a little girl crouched on the floor of Wal-Mart, staring intently at a still-boxed doll as her mother browsed DVDs. She grinned broadly, hopped, and cried, "Mommy, she's beautiful!" I couldn't help but fondly smile as I recalled my own Samantha, a curly-haired brunette doll in a yellow dress whose eyes opened and closed. Her mother smiled sheepishly and bit her lip as she glanced at me. A few aisles later, I walked past a baby with a shock of beautifully bright red hair, and I smiled again.
One time I was helping a precocious little boy bend pipe cleaners for the paper monkeys we were making together. He and his little brother and I had talked about Star Wars and dogs and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
The older boy informed me, "I like coming here because you know about Turtles and Darth Vader and stuff."
His brother bounced in his seat and agreed, "Yeah, you know everything! How come you don't got kids?"
I must have giggled and said, "Well, because I'm 19 years old."
The first boy asked, "How come you don't act like a grownup? I mean, you don't treat me like a little kid."
"Do you think I act like a little kid?"
"No. I just mean that I don't talk to most grown-ups like this."
I paused. "Put it this way, Matthew--are you a person?"
The littler one interrupted gleefully, "Well, yeah he is! I'm a person, too!"
"See, that's all I'm concerned about. You don't have to be six years old to want to talk about just Darth Vader and silly dogs." The older boy nodded, seeming satisfied, but frowned. "Are we friends, Allison?"
The other wriggled and shook his head. "Course we're friends, Matthew!"
Matthew, unconvinced, waited for me to answer. "Sure we're friends. I like being friends with kids. You're a little better, a little purer, than a lot of adults I know. You haven't had any time to get cynical yet."
He never asked me what cynical meant, but he seemed reassured as we poked the pipe cleaner through the circle of the monkey's body. Michael swooshed his monkey around like a lightsaber, and we horsed around at the kids' table the way friends do.
One time I was helping a precocious little boy bend pipe cleaners for the paper monkeys we were making together. He and his little brother and I had talked about Star Wars and dogs and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
The older boy informed me, "I like coming here because you know about Turtles and Darth Vader and stuff."
His brother bounced in his seat and agreed, "Yeah, you know everything! How come you don't got kids?"
I must have giggled and said, "Well, because I'm 19 years old."
The first boy asked, "How come you don't act like a grownup? I mean, you don't treat me like a little kid."
"Do you think I act like a little kid?"
"No. I just mean that I don't talk to most grown-ups like this."
I paused. "Put it this way, Matthew--are you a person?"
The littler one interrupted gleefully, "Well, yeah he is! I'm a person, too!"
"See, that's all I'm concerned about. You don't have to be six years old to want to talk about just Darth Vader and silly dogs." The older boy nodded, seeming satisfied, but frowned. "Are we friends, Allison?"
The other wriggled and shook his head. "Course we're friends, Matthew!"
Matthew, unconvinced, waited for me to answer. "Sure we're friends. I like being friends with kids. You're a little better, a little purer, than a lot of adults I know. You haven't had any time to get cynical yet."
He never asked me what cynical meant, but he seemed reassured as we poked the pipe cleaner through the circle of the monkey's body. Michael swooshed his monkey around like a lightsaber, and we horsed around at the kids' table the way friends do.
posted by Allison at
3:52 PM
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