I didn't have the opportunity to tell this story to anyone yesterday, but then I realized, "Hey, I have a Patch blog."
I was wearing my indigo-colored carpenter pants when I visited IKEA yesterday afternoon. As I was looking at countertop samples, I felt something bump into my leg, and looked down to find a toddler had wrapped herself around it.
As I looked down at her, she looked up at me, and then promptly ran the few steps over to her mother and wrapped herself around her leg.
Mom's pants were nearly identical to mine.
I broke out laughing, and then said hello to the girl's family, y'know, so that they didn't think I was crazy. I asked what the girl's name was and said hello to her specifically, but, understandably, she seemed a little uncomfortable. I recalled an incident it reminded me of, from when I was real little.
I was three (maybe four, but I think not). My Dad and I were walking down the street through a commercial area, with stores and such, and when we came to a corner, like the good boy I was, I reached up to take Dad's hand as we crossed the street.
Imagine my surprise when my hand was rejected, and I looked up to find that the gentleman whose assistance I had requested was not in fact my Dad, who was a few steps behind, laughing heartily. I had walked a bit ahead of him, it turns out, and he had wanted to see what I would do.
Now, I don't know how "traumatic" such an incident ought be considered, but notice that I still remember it almost 60 years later.
I hope I didn't traumatize the little girl by laughing.