There I am, en route to the ATM, my checking account, due to the season, on life support, trying so hard to mind my own business, when, in my hawklike eyeline, what do I see?
A mother yelling at her little girl.
I whisper to myself…Susannah keep going…JUST KEEP GOING…BUT…
that little face, stops me in my tracks.
She’s 5 or 6, in a little red, plaid dress and white tights, Mary Janes on her teeny feet, the same way my mother dressed me.
Alright God, what are you up to now, you little prankster? to quote Anne Lamott.
You see, when I was her age, no one ever cared when I cried either, and as I see it, it’s the only way a child that small can communicate, through her tears, her language till she’s graced with words.
So, a strange calm comes over me (boy was mom lucky), and stop (like you didn’t know that), smile and say in the softest of tones, as if I were channeling Mary…
“You know, I wasn’t lucky enough to have children, let alone a sweet little girl like yours…(who stops crying by the way…yes, honey, your, though nuttier than a fruitcake, fairy godmother is here, have no fear), so for me, and women like me…have patience with her…she’s just little, and we were little once too.”
Now before she could hit me, I run away. Just take off down Park, like a shot. I’m no fool.
Cut to…15 minutes later.
The doorman on that corner I see most mornings calls out to me,” What did you say to that lady?”
“Why? Did she hit her kid?” I say, horrified.
“No, she hugged her, then started to cry.”
Guess who starts to cry then?
The doorman says, “What’s goin on. All you women are cryin?”
“Oh ya know how it is,” I say, “tis the season after all.”
Of five or six or seven
I can’t resist a joyous urge
To smile and say
Thank heaven for little girls
For little girls get
Bigger every day
Thank heaven for little girls
They grow up in
The most delightful way.
Those little eyes
So helpless and appealing
When they were flashing
Send you crashing
Through the ceiling
Thank heaven…
SB
“without them, what would little boys do?” 😉
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I think you need to write another stanza. 🙂
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“that little girl, who loves you for a minute,
owns your bank account and ev’ry thing that’s in it”
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You’re too funny.
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Susannah, you have a gift of knowing the right things to say. I bet that mom will think of your words in the future whenever she is frustrated with her daughter. You didn’t just make their Christmas season more loving, you’ve probably changed the dynamics of their relationship forever with patience, love, and attention. The best gift anyone could give or get.
I’m one of those that usually sticks my foot in my mouth., so I really admire your ability. I always think of the right thing to say later; too late.
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Oh Skinny. You flatter me. It really just comes from having a self-absorbed mother who just didn’t care all that much. I feel so much for little kids. I do know motherhood can be challenging but it’s part of the deal. Thanks.
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Amen to that !
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You had four if my memory serves me right. 🙂
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Yes and another 18 month old who currently tugs my heart !
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4 and a half then.
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You know the right thing to say to help ease the frustration that mama was having. I am not very patient so it’s fortunate I only had cats. Of course with them, I have all the patience in the world!
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It’s cause you love them…meow
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Most of us just think the words but don’t say them. Yay for you who speaks up!
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One day you’ll see me on the front of the New York Post: headline: Runner stabbed for not minding her own business. She and mouth in critical condition. 🙂
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Another beautiful story from the city! You have a precious gift of connecting with people in need.
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I need a life Anne.
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There are times when you make Joan of Arc and Mother Theresa look like a couple of hookers.
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Shhh…you know how women are, I could then go straight to hell on their recommendation.
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I have a Daddy’s girl even now, she’s over 30, husband, 2 dogs, happy. But, OMG if someone hurt her, I might just have to go to jail! I hope I could stop long enough to decide on a proper, devious way to get back – the other person better just hope I hurt them instead.
Scott
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Now now… it was just a story.
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