On Saturday morning F and I were discussing my imminent birthday on which I’ll be 31 years old.
“Hmm, does that make me almost middle-aged? Can I have my mid-life crisis and buy a sports car now?”
For some reason, that thought led me to think way into the future about C’s first car. (At times, I speak and think in non-sequiturs, like a 3-year-old.)
“Ooh, for Ayay’s first car, we should get her an old pick-up truck, in red!” I tell F.
“Like a Studebaker?” suggests F.
“Yeah!” (I’ve always wanted one and I suppose I’m living vicariously through my children. She WILL be a dancer, darnit!)
All of a sudden, Ayay breaks down into tears and begins to wail, with a mouth full of toast,”I don’t want anything OLD! I don’t!”
F and I give each other the look of, “Huh? What just happened?”
“Sweetie, what’s wrong? Old pick-ups are cool. Bella has a red one!” I say to her. (Yes, I am still finding ways to insert my most recent obsession into everyday life.)
She responds with more wails, “I want to go to school today!!!!! I want to see R!!!!! I want to see R today!!!!!” (R is her very, very, very, best friend in the whole world.)
Oh, my sweet girl. Ayay is shedding genuine, giant, juicy tears because she doesn’t want anything old and she wants to see her friend. I’m not sure how those things are connected, but it’s a sweet moment nonetheless. Puzzling, but sweet.