Thursday, March 31, 2016

Pete the Cat dance


A few weeks ago a dad and his little girl came into the library because they really wanted WALL-E. Sadly, we didn't have a copy on shelf.  On the way to the back room I couldn't help myself and quietly, or so I thought, pretended to be WALL-E and sang EVAAA in a cheery robot voice.

Turns out at that exact moment the dad and kid were walking right by the book drop.  I must have done a fairly decent impression because the little girl let out a piercing and heartbreaking wail as soon as EVAAA left my lips.

I also babysat recently for an 18-month-old and while we had a good time trying to figure each other out and turn all of her noisy toys on at the same time I made one pretty big error.  

The jammies that her mom laid out for her were like a damn rubik's cube with about a million snaps. And I only discovered this after putting her in the jammies.  

I did find some new jammies and made sure I knew how they worked before they were on the baby. The baby appeared to be perfectly fine with all this.  But I did get some quizzical looks and at one moment I can tell you with 100% certainty she gurgled and then laughed at me. 

I haven't said anything because I have felt very inadequate and a little stupid.  Kids are very important to me.  Their opinion of me matters, which is why I struggle to tell them not to run in the library.

But slowly I've gotten over my ineptitude (being asked to babysit again helps) and am probably not going to need therapy after all.

Especially after today.

Today, two children restored my faith in myself.

The first kiddo asked for help setting up a computer game, and once we got it all set up she reached out her arms towards me and said, 'pretend hug, pretend hug.'  I almost spontaneously combusted due to extreme happiness.

Later, after noticing a little boy struggling to check out a book I discovered it was one of our not-for-checkout books and checked the catalog for anything Pete the Cat related. Somehow, possibly through divine intervention I'm sure, we had the exact same copy on shelf.  When I handed the boy the book he hugged my knees and gave me a giant smile.  I did a little dance. I couldn't help it.

I hereby call it the Pete the Cat dance.  

So maybe I'm not such a nincompoop after all.

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