as we stood on the platform, waiting for manhattan-bound train, the thoughtful child kept an eye on my well-being. BE CAREFUL DADDY, YOU CAN'T FALL DOWN IN THE TRACKS. IT'S DANGEROUS. the vehemence with which she lobbied for my safety caught the attention of this shabby homeless dude who was otherwise deeply engaged in picking up spent metro cards off the ground while muttering to himself. she shouts, he looks up. and he shouts back. and a meeting of the minds is convened:
him: HELLO LITTLE GIRL!
her: WE WAITING FOR THE TRAIN!
him: THE TRAIN! IS IT COMING?!
her: THAT'S MY DADDY BECAUSE I'M WEARING PAJAMAS.
him: YOU A BEAUTIFUL GIRL. BLESS YOU.
her: YOU GOING TO LOOK FOR EGGS TOO?!
him: YES! YES, THE TRAIN! IT'S COMING, MAMI.
her: HAVE TO BE CAREFUL!
him: OK! BYE BYE! YOU BEAUTIFUL FACE.
her: GOING TO THE CITY.
he was harmless and she was adorable, but still. i'll admit to feeling a little uneasy with the whole guileless, earnest, trusting, beautiful 3-year-old shtick she has going. the sitter tells me the kid talks to everyone on the train (she apparently takes her on more outings than i do -- in my defense, i'm usually too busy keeping her locked in the basement).
of course, most sane people would have their socks charmed off by the little porkchop. naturally. unfortunately, not every person on the train (or waiting for it) is sane. at what age, i wonder, do i tell her that it's probably not the best idea to launch into a discourse about your pajamas with every homeless stranger you meet on the street.
oh well, at least she didn't pole dance this time.