Little Patty and the pronoun

I dropped my son off at the Y this evening for his taekwondo class and decided to kill time with a visit to Target.

(Work out at the Y myself while he’s in class? Who, me? Not tonight, dear.)

Going to Target is like going home. I love that place. In fact, since it’s started selling food and booze, there’s no compelling reason for me to ever actually leave Target.

I was on the hunt for a photo album. Remember photo albums? You know, you peeled back the clear cover film and pressed your pic on the sticky page and then sealed it over? Forever. I'm not talking about a scrapbook (not a fan); I want a peel-and-stick method of capturing memories. Boxes and boxes of memories.  And so I was looking at Target’s selection of photo albums and refill pages.

There was a little girl and her mother across the aisle. The girl was 4, maybe 5 years old and happily chattering away, all “Mommy this” and “Mommy that” in a sing-song voice. I heard, “Mommy I love this Hello Kitty backpack, it’s beautiful!” She was modeling it, spinning and swaying. Very cute.  I tuned her out, much like her mother already had if the uh-huh-uh-huh response was any indication, in order to focus on my search.

Score! Found an album (not scrapbook) and refill pages.

Spoiler alert: I bought this!

 

How much? I stepped out into the main aisle in search of a price scanner and the little girl said, “Mommy, she looks like my friend’s mommy … she’s beautiful.”

Aw, what a little cutie. And such a keen eye for the obvious.

I smiled, pressing the corners of my mouth so my dimples were extra adorable, and tilted my head at this little sweetie and cooed, “Are you talking about me?”

That curly-headed, doe-eyed little angel blinked once and, looking up at me through feathery lashes, bluntly declared with a twinge of exasperation, “No. My friend is beautiful.”

You know, Patty,* you’re kind of a little bitch.

And your Hello Kitty backpack is dumb.

(Thought it. Didn’t say it.)

*Not her real name. I knew a kid named Patty once and she was horrid. Seemed to fit.

So literally, in the blink of little brown eyes, I went from Hello Kitty-level beautiful to just a sad old lady at Target fishing for compliments from a preschooler.

Her mother was open-mouthed and aghast and, sensing this (and it’s possible, catching on to the steely gaze I had on her), little Patty explained, taking big pauses to ensure my understanding, “My friend is beautiful. … you look like my friend’s mommy … my friend’s mommy is beautiful …"

[big pause]

“… And so are you.”

Sweet Patty, thank you for the clarification. I’m so sorry to have interrupted you mid-declaration of all the beautiful things you see.

So we should all take a cue from Patty – this one, not the awful kid I used to know – and notice out loud all the beauty around us. A sunny Monday after a gloomy weekend. The huge, inviting red concrete balls at Target’s entrance. An $8.49 photo album (beautiful bargain!). A delish to-go cup of creamy tomato soup from Panera Bread enjoyed in the parking lot of the Y while waiting for my son.

Beats working out.

And precious Patty, who looks positively smashing in her brand-new Hello Kitty backpack.