Thanks?

Last December we found ourselves in an Iowa City church helping Daphne's Grandma celebrate her 90th birthday. After three cookies and 45 minutes of celebrating, Charlotte decided she had enough of the crowded atrium, and wanted to go exploring. She's quite the walker, and with a little forward lean she's quite the runner who falls down a lot.

While we were admiring the aquarium in the narthex an older employee of the church walked over to talk to me. "I've been watching your little daughter playing out here, and I have to tell you I have never seen a child who looks so..." See, here at the end of her sentence is where I thought the woman was going to give me a compliment. 

Nope.

To repeat: "I've been watching your little daughter play out here, and I have to tell you I have never seen a child who looks so much like I did when I was a child." Insert sound of a record being scratched.

"Really?" This isn't the comment I was expecting, and my smile fades.

"Oh yes, she's the spittin' image of me. It's so strange to look at her and see myself."

"Just like looking into a mirror, huh?" I'm was trying to keep my sarcasm at bay.

"Oh my, yes. I looked just like that. Same face. Same eyes. Same height. Yes, just like that." With that said, the woman sauntered away into a workroom of some sort. 

That's certainly not the worst thing someone will ever say about Charlotte, but who says that? Who has memorized what they looked like when they were 16 months old, and then goes around comparing that mental image to other people's children? When you think about it, it's pretty arrogant. And weird. 

What if she hasn't memorized what she looked like back then and instead is lying? That's even weirder, especially in a church. 

A few minutes later in a hallway near the nursery, Char found a couple of poster tubes sticking out a recycle bin. While we're happily banging them together, the same woman emerged from another door way. "Oh! There I am again! Hello little me, how am I doing on this lovely afternoon?" 

Unsure of what to say, I go with "Oh, hi again. I guess your little twin is stalking you." She chuckles down at Charlotte, but her soft laughter sounds somehow forced, and as she bends over and gets too close to my daughter I begin wondering if I shouldn't be holding something heavier than a cardboard tube.  

 Luckily, the woman abruptly turned and walked pass us down the hall, and then Charlotte leaned her body in the opposite direction and we ran/ stumbled back to the party in pursuit of more cookies.