subway stories
our lovely sitter decided to take the little nipper into the big city this morning -- they headed to soho for some easter egg hunt -- which was great for me because i got to ride on the train with them part of the way there. i humbly posit that everyone's morning commute would be improved about a million times if they got to spend it with my shouting daughter. (WE'RE GOING ON THE "R" TRAIN TO THE CITY! WE'RE GOING IN THE TUNNEL!)
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.
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.
posted by mr. nice guy at 12:01 PM
3 Comments:
I had a similar experience with Wallace recently where he was looking adoringly up at the 50 year old weirdo pizza delivery guy who looks kind of unhinged and not entirely completely unlike what you'd imagine a pedophile to look like if you were to come up with what one looks like, and saying with great and true earnestness, "I WUV YOU!"
Of course, what he really wuved was the pizza, but we had a little talk about Who We Tell We Wuv Dem.
my daughter is scared of everyone but her dog... well and maybe us, her parents...
so i am not worried yet, though she'd be a sucker for candy.. gotta have that talk soon. NO candy except if the dog lets you have it. ;)
My daughter (same age as yours) also talks to strangers, only she gives them her full name (First Middle Middle Last - no idea why the middle name is in there twice), and introduces me like so: "Hi, John, this is my friend Mother." Not only did I somehow become "mother," we are also now "just friends."
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