Posey has entered what
I like to call her cruise director
phase. Last week,
while on a trip out of town,
we found a nice little Japanese
restaurant in the middle
of Sleepy Hollow. (Side
note: How far removed from
civilization could Ichabod
Crane have felt when he
could have seen Manhattan
while driving over the Tappan
Zee Bridge. Sheesh.)
As soon as we walked
into the restaurant, Posey
spotted another child, a little
girl who looked to be
about 2.
``Hi!’’ Posey called. She
pointed to the girl’s Elmo
doll sitting next to her on
the table. ``I have Elmo,
too!’’
The hostess sat us at a
table just behind the other
family, and Posey launched
right in, introducing herself
to the mom and dad.
``Hi. I’m Posey. What’s
her name?’’ she asked.
The dad leaned toward
Posey and smiled. ``Her
name is Dominique.’’
``Hi, Dominique!’’ Posey
bubbled. ``This is my mom
and this is my dad, and this
is Bee and this is my brother
Xerxes.’’
Posey does these introductions
all the time, and
she always gestures toward
us with two hands, palms
upturned. She looks like
the introducing a new model
at the car show, or a
brand new washer/dryer on
``Price Is Right.’’ Sometimes,
she adds a bit of biographical
information, just
to get the conversation rolling.
``Mama has a boo-boo
on her leg,’’ she might
gravely inform our new
friends. ``Bee is my sister
and she goes to school on
the bus,’’ she might point
out to someone who seems
like he could identify with
such an experience. ``Lydia
has a instrument that’s red
and it’s a flute and she tries
to hide the diamond castle!’’
she might reveal dramatically
to someone who looks
to be in need of a good, compelling
story.
In no time, Posey and
Dominique were fast
friends. Posey told Dominique
how cute she was.
Dominique tried to share
her Elmo doll and her bottle
with Posey. I watch the way
she dives into these new social
situations, and can’t
help but think how much
most of us could learn from
her sheer openness and enthusiasm.
I think of the
grueling time I’ve spent
over the years at professional
networking ``opportunities,’’
(read: ``opportunities
for awkward, stilted
conversations about mostly
insignificant matters’’), and
I wonder how differently I
might feel if I walked into
those rooms like Posey
walks into every room.
Posey believes that everyone
has the same agenda
in life that she has: To
make friends, get candy
and scare her mother silly
with dangerous acrobatics.
She does not yet know that,
for many people in the
world, the only goal that
overlaps is the thing about
getting candy. She thinks
everyone is not only waiting
to meet her, but hoping
to meet her. She is doing
the world a favor by unleashing
her friendliness.
Most people I know
stopped thinking that way
some time around kindergarten,
or the first time
that friendliness was met
with unfriendliness. That’s
when we learned that making
friends is harder than
holding out two hands and
saying, ``And this is my
Dad! He took me to Badger
Park and said `Posey, you’re
too close to the top!’ And
this is Mama, who closed
her eyes and said, `I can’t
watch.’’’
Making friends and
keeping friends involves
risk. What if someone
doesn’t like you, or thinks
she already has enough
friends? What if you can’t
think of anything interesting
to say to that stranger
at the mixer? What if I end
up looking silly?
Posey is unburdened by
the types of self-consciousness
that lace most people’s
social fears. Without suggesting
that we should all
be as unself-conscious as a
3-year-old, a lot of us could
benefit from letting go of
self-centered anxiety and
seeing ourselves as cruise
directors, always ready to
supple and introduction, a
connection or a really great
story.
Elizabeth Trever Buchinger
can tell you all about
the Diamond Castle. Connect
with her at www.moremindfulfamily.
wordpress.
com or e-mail her at
VillageWordsmith@gmail.
com.
