Girl Talk

The newest thing Abby does is bullshit with me. That's the only way to describe it. She sits down next to me on the couch, places her sweet tiny hand on my arm and looks me precisely in the eyes. Then she starts chattering in the smallest, softest, girliest voice with made up staccato words that have meaning only to her. But I don't let on. I nod in affirmation. I lift my chin in agreement. Like two girls in a cafe, I want her to go on. Because what she's saying is so important. The way she's delivering it is so femininely accurate; punctuating longer syllables with a glance away or a brushing of her sweet fingertips on my elbow. She's practicing the art of BS'ing and she's already getting it right. She wants to be part of this complicated grown up world and I want to hold her back as long as possible.

But I don't hold her back. Instead I listen with exaggerated eyes and closed mouth because I want to hear what she has to say even more.