Little People

Here is one of the cutest stories ever about my daughter:

When my daughter was three years old, she and I were walking to the Chelsea Cinemas on West 23rd Street one afternoon to meet some friends.  As we walked along 7th Avenue, a “little person” (we no longer called them midgets or dwarfs, even back then… it is not politically correct) passed us. 

I looked at my daughter to see if she was staring at this person, but she wasn’t.  At times she would really “look” at someone or something if she was not familiar with what she was seeing.

I was glad that this person had gone by unnoticed.

Half a block later my daughter looked up at me.  “Mommy,” she began, “did you see that little lady?”

“Yes I did,” I answered.

“Why is she like that?” she continued.

“She’s a “little person””, I answered.  “Some grown-ups don’t get as big as others” I explained.

Silence.

A few steps later:

“Do you think anyone thinks I’m one of those?” she asked.

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About mallorylayne

midlife mom seeking meaning for the rest of her life.
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