Lola was home sick from pre-k for three days last week, and so I had to drag her along to her big sister's piano lesson in the torrential rain. This mostly meant that I got soaked, as Lola currently will not wear her own raingear but instead wants me to unbutton my raincoat and hold it out away from my body over her, creating a little latex cave for her and allowing her to shuffle along slowly without seeing where she is going. (Why do I go along with this? Because it's easier to just take a drenching for the team than to stand at the side of my car and argue with an obstinate five year-old until I've bullied her into putting on her own coat. Lord, I am a lazy woman indeed).
I made her grab some toys to play with on the long drive over to Iris's school and during the piano lesson. I was surprised when Lola pulled a television remote out of her little backpack. This, it turned out, was intended to be a celphone (it would have been truly pathetic if she'd pretended to watch TV in the hallway of the Northern California Music and Cultural Center). Pacing back and forth, Lola muttered urgently into the remote when not listening intently.
"Who are you calling?" I asked.
Lola covered the remote with her hand and looked at me regretfully. "Private", she said condescendingly.
8 comments:
gee, i wonder where she picked this up from?
my guess is she was talking to doggyo.
(laughing so hysterically at Hughman's comment, he can't summon the composure to write a comment of his own)
--
2amsomewhere
I can't wait to share this with the rest of the family. They were much interested in how Lucy became Lola, and why she chose Lola, and the implications thereof, of the name, Lola, as opposed to, say, Agnes.
Rock on, Lola!
I remember hearing a thing on NPR a few years back about a couple who lived in NYC, and their young daughter had an invisible friend named Tony Ravioli. Unlike many children's imaginary playmates, Tony was a New Yorker, through and through.
They would go to a fancy restaurant, and their daughter would say, "Look! There's Ravioli over there, making a deal on his cell phone."
I'd say that Lola, like this child, is a product of her environment.
Adam Gopnik wrote the piece about Tony Ravioli. It's in his book "Through the Children's Gate." Tony Ravioli would also cancel his playdates because he had meetings.
I could see my Lily doing something just like Lola.
tony ravioli sounds sinister. lola's doppleganger sounds less sinister and more nerdy. like someone asking for codes for programming.
I love Ravioli! My imaginary friend was named "Kitty Farka", and once I convinced a teenaged boy that Kitty Farka's car had a flat tire. The boy spent about half an hour following me through the woods to help rescue Kitty Farka before figuring out that we weren't going anywhere.
Lola wasn't modeling behavior she sees in the home. I hate talking on the phone and am legendarily unreachable on my celphone (the husband jokes that my phone works only one way; I can call out, but no one can call in to me). The recording on it warns, "Please be aware I raaaaarely check the messages on this phone." The husband is addicted to his iPhone and is constantly taking and making calls on it, but he's an open book. Ask him when he gets off the phone who he was talking to, and he'll bend your ear until you're begging him to please, please shut up. Especially if it was a work call. There is nothing the man likes better than to make work calls on his iPhone and then tell someone all about it in unfortunately non-lurid detail.
I'm thinking she was calling my son - as this could've been a conversation in our house!!! Too funny!!
Post a Comment