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The Rice-Kid…

Sometimes in my adult life – living downtown, working where I work – I forget that kids exist. It sounds ignorant but kids and I don’t usually hang around the same places. I live in the middle of the city, I work at an ad agency, I shop at the downtown grocery store, I hang out at breweries/other non-kid-friendly places, etc.  We don’t really cross paths unless it’s intentional (like visiting my precious baby second cousin {or whatever the connection is… it doesn’t matter, he’s my baby… picture below} or it’s on one of the nights that I help with the church youth group but I digress…)

Today, in the middle of a work day, I spent over an hour waiting in line at the post office.

Already, I’m all like…

tenor

…because of my extreme lack of line-waiting-patience.

Then she came in. This (cute) perky little 8 year old and she took a mysterious and immediate liking to me…

I know the majority of people who read this don’t know me personally so I guess I should clarify that I’m “nice” – a compliment I don’t love but I suppose isn’t a bad thing – and “nice” I remained as this little girl tugged on my sleeve and spent 40+ minutes explaining to me 6,879 different ways to eat rice. Why rice, you ask? Why wasn’t this child in school, is the question I want answered!

…rice and broccoli, chicken and rice – with wild rice, not plain rice-, chicken fried rice, shrimp fried rice, mexican rice, beans and rice, rice and peas, rice casserole, cheesy rice, rice cakes, spanish rice, microwaveable rice, white rice, brown rice, red rice… and did you know that ice cream originated in China where it was originally a mixture of milk and… RICE.

At about the 45 minute mark of this madness, the little girl’s mother turned to me and said, “I know what you’re thinking. Try living with her.”

Respect. SO much respect.

I like to think that when you start considering being a parent, you’re automatically zapped with an extra dose of patience (because I do want to be a parent one day… I think…) and I have no doubt that when I was young (uh… maybe still?) I could also talk someone into insanity (Mom, I love you)… but phew…

respectto all you parents out there.

Now I want icecream. The American kind, not the Rice-Milk Chinese kind.


 

“My” baby:

14079942_10157299893095697_5753736265897178839_n

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4 thoughts on “The Rice-Kid…

  1. Being a parent is a journey back into your own childhood but this time you are the passenger. You are in the front seat but your child is now driving the car. You are old enough to see where you are going and see what’s coming but you don’t get to choose the path though you can guess because you might have been down this road already. I try to stay patient because I don’t know how long or short the road is so I think it’s best to savor it all and just try to enjoy the ride.

    Liked by 1 person

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