Seriously, do I seem weird to you?
It was Christmas Eve, and I don’t recall what warranted this response, but my friend’s seven-year-old daughter said to me, “You’re weird.” I chuckled and told her, “Well, I take that as a compliment.”
“Well, it’s not,” she retorted. I laughed harder, after which, we had a brief, light conversation about how it’s good to be different. Later that night, our families were exchanging presents. This young friend’s school sells gifts so that kids can buy presents at school for their families. She had picked out various thoughtful gifts for everyone in the room—hand soap for her aunt, crosswords for Matt’s dad, a candle for Matt’s mom, a flashlight you can attached to your work badge for Matt. When it was my turn to receive her gift she told me that she was certain I was going to love what she got me. “You think I’ll like it?” I double checked. “No,” she clarified, “you’re gonna love it.”
It was a whoopee cushion. I laughed so hard I almost didn’t need a whoopee cushion. I spent the next hour re-inflating it and playing with her and her little brother. If I have a weird or at least immature sense of humor, she nailed it. Though I think she may have enjoyed the whoopee cushion as much as I did. Granted she is seven. Still, it’s good to be weird.
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