No, she can't, even if it doesn't. I see that now. I have made great strides in being hair-compassionate.
These days, Laura calls me Vinny, for my short, dark curls. "Yo, Vin-ny," she says with a slow nod that lasts long after the appellation. This is fair, actually -- payback for teasing her about outfits she puts together before work. I'll shout enthusiastically "Let's give it up for the techies!" when she comes around the corner wearing black. Or I'll blow an imaginary ref's whistle and raise my arms to mark a touchdown when she is in a shirt with wide stripes. The other day I cornered her into a quick do-si-do when she put on that new checkered shirt.
Ward Cleaver (never June) is actually a good look on Laura, though she will immediately change out of whatever evokes: "Ward, dear, could you please speak with Wally?" I can get her to change three times without addressing her directly, poor thing.
So, Vinny, yeh. I had this comin'.
So, Now you're tri-cultural, Paula? Nice, slick look, btw! It's great to hear your and Laura's light banter. Humor is a sign of healing.
ReplyDeleteYour cute story reminds me, I don't know why, of my son's Glen's description of the other kids in his kindergarten class. "Lots of them have these little, tiny curls in their hair", he said. We deliberately hadn't pointed out to him that he was one of 2 caucasians in a classroom of African-American children, preferring to just let him explore/experience his own world. I thought it was interesting what he noticed and chose to describe about the physical differences between himself and his classmates and friends.
Hair matters more than we think, I guess.