I live in an amazing neighborhood--other than old men stalking women as they mow the lawn, it's great. click here for that story
My house is sandwiched between Melynda (who I'm sure you know) and NSteed. She said I can use her real name, but the nickname NSteed is too golden to pass up. Plus, it just came to me like a prophetic dream.
She's the one who took this silly picture:Anyway, NSteed is amazing. She's classy and nice. One of the first times I hung out with her, she invited me to reading time at the library.
I was very nervous because my son is a goofball and her youngest girl is a sweet doll. She's so well behaved, beautiful and kind like her mother. In fact, she's the same girl The Zombie Elf waved to last week.
So, being a nervous wreck who really wanted a friend, I went to the library. NSteed looked gorgeous in the latest fashion. I wore my hair in a ponytail. NSteed knew a couple people there; I didn't know anyone. NSteed smiled and lit up the room--I shook from nerves. SO, WE WERE DIFFERENT, you get it!
Well, NSteed has this way of being the most understanding person in the world. As we sat, listening to the story, her girl rested with angelic hands clasped in front of her frilly dress. The Zombie Elf ran around like an airplane. I could have died at this point, even though NSteed said, "It's okay. Everyone understands. He's just a boy."
"Sit down, now!" I finally yelled when he poked the story-reader's hair. "We're in a library."
The storyteller looked at me like she needed to spit out her dentures.
She looked at me like this:
A couple new moms turned to me. I love how new moms can be so judgmental. They think having a two-month-old makes them an expert ON TODDLERS.
"Sit down!" I said, interrupting the story yet again.
The Zombie Elf, shocked me at that moment. He raised an eyebrow. Gave the guest story-reader a once over and then sat by my side.
The story-reader wore a hippie-style skirt which hung to her feet. She was quite homely. It wasn't because of how she looked, it was her attitude. She'd soured like a half grape in the sun. I wished I could show her the bright side of life, take her sky diving and skiing. Maybe she'd see life outside of a book. Maybe she'd like falling in the wind. She'd smile then, I was sure of it.
I pictured her falling from a plane. Her hair dancing, her arms wide. I giggled from the thought. I'd make her happy--I WOULD.
After thinking all of that, I turned to The Zombie Elf and realized he wasn't by me anymore.
I tried remaining calm, but freaked out anyway. I whispered to NSteed. "My boy . . . he's missing. Can you see him anywhere?"
"Oh, my gosh," she said. "No . . . I can't."
It was terrible, scary beyond anything.
I stood. The storyteller glanced at me as if she knew my secret. She sat with her legs wide and that stupid skirt glittering like it owned the beauty of our universe. Maybe I wouldn't take her sky diving. Maybe she didn't deserve my time. After all the Bible does say some people are swine who don't even deserve pearls.
That's when I had a moment like this:
Well, I didn't really have it, but the storyteller did.
I'd been searching for my son, looking everywhere, when his head suddenly appeared between the storyteller's feet. Her skirt fell around his face, framing it like Virgin Mary with a headscarf.
All the children started giggling, but the storyteller didn't know why yet. She smiled then, that sour grape actually smiled. "This is a pretty funny story. Isn't it, children? I picked a good one."
I felt so terrible. She'd finally warmed up. She was happy, needing some validation. Her face lit with beauty. Her smile was contagious, until my son crawled forward, and the storyteller screamed.
It was MORTIFYING! He danced around, singing and playing in front of everyone.
We left after that, and haven't been to story time since. I did learn a great lesson though. An attitude can make or break you. It's always good to smile about life even if something embarrassing is going on.