The Lydster, Part 82: The Girl Who Mistook A Coat Rack for Her Mother


Someone told me, when my daughter was an infant, that she would see me as perfect until she was about 12, then turn on me. That has proven not to be the case. To the contrary, the Daughter is really good at pointing out the errors of both of her parents already, though, like most of us, is less perceptive about her own flaws.

So if I leave something on the floor, or don’t hang up my coat or [horrors] EAT IN THE LIVING ROOM, then I definitely hear about it. Yet she is struck blind by the things on the floor that are hers, unless I threaten to vacuum them up.

She laughs when I accidentally misspeak a word, but not so much when I am deliberately trying to be funny. Meanwhile I scratch my head at what passes for humor in kindergarten, though she tells her jokes(?) with such relish, I can at least appreciate the delivery, if not the content.

One day, she was upstairs. I was downstairs vacuuming, but when I had finished, I had not yet put back the coat tree in the corner, so it was in the middle of the living room floor. Her mother and I were talking at the dining room table when Lydia came downstairs. The coat nearest her on the coat tree was her mother’s, so she started talking to her mommy. The she looked over to the dining room table, saw her mother, looked back at the coat rack, walked into the dining room and continued telling her (actual) mother her story. No embarrassment, no “oops”; I was impressed, actually, as I would have been mortified at her age.

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