Yesterday, a family came to eat dinner at our house. They go to this church that we’ve been going to every now and then, but I don’t think I’d met them until last night… Or maybe I have. I’ve probably been introduced to one of them before, but I don’t remember. I’m constantly being introduced to people when we go out to places, so I’ve pretty much just stopped trying to remember everyone by this point. No offense to anyone whom I’ve forgotten.
Anyways. I had just gotten back from a sleepover with my BFF. I had stayed up late the night before (I didn’t go to sleep until past 2:00AM) and I had been swimming a bunch in her pool. So when I got home, I wasted no time in going to my room and taking a nap. Well, actually, I had to wash dishes first. But technically I was doing something productive then, so I wasn’t wasting time. You get what I mean.
I was woken up a little while later by my door opening (something about that annoyingly squeaky, loud, door never fails to wake me up) and my mom telling me to get up because ‘they’re coming any minute’.
So I zombied out of bed, opened my wonderful black-out curtains so that the late Afternoon light could stream at least a little bit into my lair, and then I just zombied unto the kitchen.
‘Zombied’, is my new word for: ‘I’m awake but I feel like I’m dreaming, so maybe I’m not awake’.
The guests were in the kitchen–and their kids (including a boy my age) were spreading towards the back of my house where my brothers’ room is. That’s the kid place, because my brothers’ room is filled with anything from magnets to Legos. And the occasional Action Disfigure (an action figure that’s been decapitated, had limbs pulled off and put back on more than once, etc. It’s a little scary to find something like a tiny Star Wars Emperor head on the floor.)
But like I said, I wasn’t quite awake yet. So I just sort of shuffled into the kitchen, got some food, and shuffled zombie-style back into the dining room without saying a word to anyone. Which was probably really rude, and is actually uncommon for me. But zombies don’t talk, they just sort of grunt at people and
eat them mumble ‘hey’ without fully making eye contact.
Before long I had started up a conversation with their little girl (who I’ll just call Artist. Because code-names are cool, and that way I don’t have to call her Little Girl). She seemed kind of shy at first, but then she launched into this whole detailed conversation about her dog and the dogs that she used to have. I’ve only ever had one dog–Jake–but I have plenty of stories about him, so for awhile we just swapped stories about dogs.
Eventually the dining and living room cleared of kids (funny thing about adults, is that they don’t like kids or teenagers hanging around while they talk. I get frustrated at them for this sometimes, but then I remind myself that I’m going to be exactly the same when I’m an adult, so there’s really no point in complaining) as the boys went to my brothers’ room, and Artist and I went to my room.
I soon learned that not only was Artist obsessed with animals, but she liked to draw as well. And she was really talkative about both subjects–along with other subjects–as we doodled with my markers. She really reminded me of myself when I was her age.
She drew something, then folded it up and looked at me. I asked her if she was going to give the picture to her mom, and she said: “No, it’s actually for you.” I took the folded up paper, and saw that on the outside it said: “To You”. And on the inside:
So in return, I drew her as a pony. She was very wowed by pony her. 🙂
Also, I introduced her to AnimalJam.com. I thought that she would like it, since I first discovered it when I was 10-years-old, and I was obsessed with AnimalJam for probably a year or more.
Yep. She played that game all evening.