My daughter is a character. She eats only when she wants to eat--every other day on average. She greets Lisa's sarcasm with elegant disdain. She's crazy smart. She's an amazing friend.
Lydia has a good heart, but her own agenda. If she is interested in you, she can't shut up. When she and her cousins get together, there is a constant stream of chatter and giggles. They have a ball together. But she does not appreciate conversation with strangers which makes public outings...interesting.
I took Lydia out the day after Christmas for some deal hunting. Truthfully, I'm not a huge fan of strangers stopping us and asking questions or commenting either.
It's very rarely, "Oh my, what delightfully well behaved children!"
Oh no, it's usually something like "Wow, someone looks tired!"
Or the ever popular, "Are they ok?"
I'm always so tempted to respond to that one with something along the lines of, "Well, we're not really sure since they haven't developed pysychological testing for sociopaths under 5 just yet."
I love my kids, but the grim reality is that you never know what you're going to get with a one-year-old and a four-year-old when you go to Target. Honestly, I just wish people would avoid eye contact as they would with a pack of wild animals and keep on moving. I'm usually too busy whisper-yelling or desperately opening whatever snack items we're supposed to be buying to make small talk about my children's perceived behavioral issues. Especially the day after Christmas. But that didn't stop a kind, old lady from stopping us at the grocery store. I'm sure she meant well.
Geriatric Woman: "Hello, young lady."
Lydia: *blank stare*
Me: *sweating* "Lydia, what do we say when someone says hello?"
Lydia: (sounding like she'd rather have someone pull her fingernails out individually than acknowledge the kind geriatric. "Hello."
Geriatric Woman: "What did Santa bring for you?"
Lydia: *blank stare* *slow blinks*
Me: *sweating more* "Lydia, what do we do when someone asks you a question?"
Editorial note: There were a few more seconds of silence here and in retrospect if I'd been paying close attention, I'm sure I would have been able to see my life flash before my eyes.
Lydia: "A knife." *creepy child-head-cock last seen in Maculay Culkin's award winning performance in The Good Son*
Editorial note: A KNIFE. I swear Lydia barely knows what a knife is and certainly doesn't know that a knife is used for anything other than cutting food. A FREAKING KNIFE.
Me: "Lydia! WHAT DID SANTA BRING YOU?"
Editorial note: Mentally, I had already packed up all the nice presents we gathered for our daughter and donated them to a child who doesn't lie about receiving a KNIFE for Christmas.
Lydia: "Toys." [Translation: Eff you, creepy oldie.]
I did my best to keep a straight face while filling my husband in when we got home. He had to look away before addressing Lydia who was served with a very extensive time out and a long question/answer session in which she informed us that she heard about a knife from school.
But I still have nightmares about that creepy-child-head-cock.