I started off today writing a post about me. About how I’m struggling to strike a balance with my work and home life, due to the fact that I have a work-at-home life. And I’ll get to that. Some other time. Today, our evening trip to the park resulted in a much more important development: Neener made a friend.
Neener has been desperate to make a friend ever since we moved here. And she’s been trying so hard. But more than once, her precocious attempts at striking up a friendly conversation with her peers have been dashed. First, by cliquish little girls who walk away from her, muttering to each other about how they neither know or like my little girl, followed by loud giggling about how they’re having a sleepover. Then, by the little boys who play too hard, too fast, too rough for her to keep up. Sure, there was Issac, a little guy a year her junior , with whom she struck up a conversation that lead to much decapitating of playground flowers. But he wasn’t exactly sleepover material. And then, along came Brookelyn. A sturdy five year old with long brown hair, brown eyes and glasses, who introduced herself by spelling out her name. Exactly what Neener does. The chemistry was instant because Brookelyn was, quite obviously, an odd little duck too. And oh boy, could she boss Neener around. But good. Neener was thrilled. And so were we. And so was Brookelyn’s Dad, who, just like us, was hovering close by to keep an ear on the interaction. When Brookelyn said ‘Let’s play horses’, Neener broke into a gallop. When Brookelyn said let’s go to the swing, Neener eagerly gave her a push. They talked about how they both wear glasses. They talked about how they both had moved here from another province. They talked about how they both love tea parties and playing dress up. And when Brookelyn squealed “Hey, do you like Hannah Montana?” Neener squealed right back “Sure!” even though she wouldn’t know Hannah Montana if she fell over her. That didn’t matter. Anything for you, Brookelyn.
We stayed at the park far longer than we’d planned. And finally, as the sun gave way to darkness, we managed to pry Neener away from the pretend lemonade stand she and Brookelyn were running. Saying a long goodbye, she declared Brookelyn her best friend. Brookelyn agreed. And there were whispers of seeing each other at the park tomorrow. But we were stupid. We didn’t get a phone number! We didn’t find out what time Brookelyn and her dad would be back at the park! We didn’t ask them out on a playdate! All we can do is hope that Neener and her new best friend’s paths cross again. Soon. In the meantime, I think I’d better set the PVR to record some of this Hannah Montana show, so I can get Neener up to speed on the details of the crappy television show, of which her new best friend is such a fan. I’d even consider hosting the sleepover of the century. Homemade cookies, a real lemonade stand, tea parties, dress up, playing horses until the cows come home. And a Hannah Montana-a-thon if that’s what it takes to solidify this friendship. Anything for you, Neener.
Stumble It!
Domestic Blister 