Passport to Paranoia

If I could guarantee that I would have a kid as incredibly hilarious as my cousin Bizzy's three-year-old daughter Maddie, I would consider getting pregnant tomorrow.  (Did you just hear that hopeful gasp coming from the Chicago suburbs?  That was my grandchild-less mother renewing her hopes and dreams.  Don't hold your breath, Mom, I really love sleeping late and not carrying a diaper bag).

Obviously, she's ridiculously cute.  One of the things I really like about her is that she doesn't hand out affection lightly.  I literally had to work for 2.5 years to get this kid to even notice me.  Even now, she doles out hugs very stingily, which makes it all the more special when she reveals she actually likes you.

She's also incredibly weird and is probably a genius.  She won't be four until the end of June, but check out this video:

(Yes, the Chicago accent is thick.  Have you seen the Super Fans on the old SNL episodes?  They're parodies for a reason).

At her mom's wedding last month, she told me an awesome joke.  "Knock Knock."  "Who's There?"  "Nancy."  "Nancy who?"  "Nancy Pelosi, the Speaker of the House."  I asked her who the last President was and she didn't know, but she asked me why he wasn't still President.  I went into a five minute explanation of the electoral process while she listened intently.  I ended with, "And who knows, Maddie.  Maybe some day you can be President."  She looked at me and said, "No, I want to be Secretary of State."  It's pretty safe to say that I'm crazy about this kid.

She came to my parents' house for Easter yesterday.  She has taken to calling me "Taryn-ie" which is so incredibly close to Tyranny that I'm adding it my list of possible rapper names along with Taryn It Up and Taryngitis. We had a great time using dart guns that the Easter Bunny brought.

Then she went through my purse and pulled out my passport.  Yes, I carry my passport.  I am a futures trader and in that field, you never know when you're going to bust out and have to flee the country and assume a new identity in Venezuela at a moment's notice.  Either that or I have lost my license and am procrastinating getting a new one, you decide.  (Note to the Securities Exchange Commission:  JUST KIDDING!)  She looked at the picture, laughed out loud and said, "Oh my gosh, Taryn-ie, you look so fat in this picture!"

The child, she is perceptive.  I explained to her that I used to be bigger than I am now and that now I am skinnier and that people come in different shapes and sizes, blah blah blah insert-Sesame-Street-lesson-here.  About halfway through, I realized that I was overthinking the whole issue and that Maddie wasn't a little anti-fat bigot in the making- she was just stating the obvious when she saw a picture of me that didn't look like the Taryn-ie she has known for the last three years.  She would have made a similar observation if I had purple hair in the picture or a lovely face tattoo that had since been removed.  Just like my old buddy Clare who I wrote about last week, she didn't have any negative connotation to fat- it was just a fact of life.

So, in summary, this was another great lesson that most of the insecurities I feel about my weight come exclusively from my own weirdo brain.  It also was a nice reminder how far I've come in this weight loss thing.  If a three-year-old notices your weight loss, you've probably been doing something right, even if she is the world's most intelligent three-year-old.  I think it's important to remember that, especially on days when it feels like the finish line is light years away.  Baby steps, just keep swimming, all that great Disney cartoon advice, right?

Also, in a personal note to my cousin Biz, if you're ever considering putting Maddie up for adoption, contact me.