Okay, Lady, I love you! Buh-bye!
My cousin's two-year-old daughter (henceforth refered to as "NotJohn") cannot remember my name, despite the fact that I spent much of my Thanksgiving letting her pet my nearly-seventeen-year-old cat while making sure she was gentle with him; drawing pictures of Spongebob, Gary the snail, and Kip on her Magnadoodle, which she would promptly erase; giving her my Flexiblocks to play with; reading her stories; and generally keeping her entertained. The first opportunity she had to refer to me by name was somewhat late in the day when my father asked if she wanted to go see the neighbor's horses. She did. She then apparently asked her grandmother (my aunt) if "she" could go with her.
Aunt: Who do you want to go with us?
NotJohn: That lady.
Aunt: Which lady? There are lots of ladies.
NotJohn: (pause) That lady.
Aunt: Which lady?
NotJohn: (pointing at me) That lady.
Then we told her my name and asked her to repeat it so she would remember. We went to see the horses. She wanted to hold my hand going down the steps and walking down the driveway. She enjoyed running through all the leaves in the yard and watching the horses eat.
Later in the evening, she called me "that lady" a few more times. She still couldn't seem to remember, or at least say, my name. She knew my mother's name and my father's name, but I was "that lady". I felt like I was in a Mindy and Buttons cartoon.
NotJohn: Hello, Lady!
SpakKadi: Call me SpakKadi, call me Space Cadet, call me Spak, call me anything! Just don't call me "lady"!
NotJohn: Okay, Lady, I love you. Buh-bye!
Aunt: Who do you want to go with us?
NotJohn: That lady.
Aunt: Which lady? There are lots of ladies.
NotJohn: (pause) That lady.
Aunt: Which lady?
NotJohn: (pointing at me) That lady.
Then we told her my name and asked her to repeat it so she would remember. We went to see the horses. She wanted to hold my hand going down the steps and walking down the driveway. She enjoyed running through all the leaves in the yard and watching the horses eat.
Later in the evening, she called me "that lady" a few more times. She still couldn't seem to remember, or at least say, my name. She knew my mother's name and my father's name, but I was "that lady". I felt like I was in a Mindy and Buttons cartoon.
NotJohn: Hello, Lady!
SpakKadi: Call me SpakKadi, call me Space Cadet, call me Spak, call me anything! Just don't call me "lady"!
NotJohn: Okay, Lady, I love you. Buh-bye!
posted by SpakKadi at 10:21 AM
1 Comments:
Oh, I'm horrible with names, too. I have to see names written down to remember them. That's why I liked the badges at the company where I co-oped - first and last name on the badge so that if my ears didn't catch the name, my eyes would.
When I worked in a nursery, I knew all the kids names, even the ones who only came in once or twice a month, because their names were on a list where their parents had signed them in. After one or two visits, I didn't need the list to know their name. But if I hadn't had that list at all, I would have been so lost. :)
Post a Comment
<< Home