There is just something about me that kids like. I am the strange woman at the grocery store that your baby is smiling and waving at. I am the mother who leaves the school cafeteria after being hugged by 10 kids she didn't know from Adam a half hour ago. I am the lady on the playground that has been entertaining your child for the last hour while you talked on your cell phone. That's me.
I have a theory. I think kids are like cats. They are able to sense who is a kid person and who isn't. Once they have determined that you are in fact not a kid person, they rub on you extra hard and with far more enthusiasm than the situation warrants. You have become a challenge, at best they will win you over with their big eyes and their charm, at worst, they'll get a charge out of annoying you.
It isn't that I dislike cats or kids, I have both and I love them completely. It is more that I often feel that with six kids, two dogs, and two cats always vying for my attention, I've got quite enough of my own to worry about. However, strange children and animals always seem to latch onto me.
When I took my son to play at an amazing indoor playground, a little boy with Down Syndrome, adopted me immediately. He walked up to me before I had even gotten through the gate and tapped me on the back, "Mom, go!" I smiled and shook my head no a few times before he came and sat on my lap, signing something that I didn't understand over and over. We played for hours (without his father looking up once from his laptop...whatever) and now I see him at the kids' school, where his face lights up like a Christmas tree when he catches sight of me. He is really very adorable, ya know, considering I don't like kids.
Then, yesterday at the coin laundry I made a new bff. He is two. I know his name, his favorite toys, what he wants to be for Halloween, and his candy preferences. He spent two solid hours running after me and helping me do laundry. He was none too pleased that his parents wouldn't let him leave with me. I was thinking that there was a reason that I hadn't brought my own toddler. He was sweet though, a really sweet boy.
The question remains, how can I get my own children to bask in my glory like that? A little, "please Mom, let me help fold clothes just so I can hang with you," would make me all warm and fuzzy.
Musings from the Big Pink: Dead at 25
15 hours ago