Pensamientos: Sewing vs. Soccer

Last weekend, as I headed off to my weekend lingerie sewing class at Cañada, I suddenly noticed the dummy light, indicating I hadn't shut the back of the car properly, was on. I pulled over a few doors down from my own house. When I  hopped out to slam down the errant hatch, I saw that my young neighbor Gregoire was playing in his front yard.

"Hi Laurel. " he greeted me. "I've got a soccer game!"

I acknowledged the importance of this event in his young life properly.

"Where are you going?"

Gregoire has recently turned seven. Erasmus wasn't kidding with that age-of-awareness stuff. Greg has suddenly become conscious that the world doesn't actually revolve around his doings, and he's curious about it.

"I've driving to a sewing class."

Gregoire was silent for a long moment. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, at the thought that I was heading cheerily, perhaps voluntarily, off to a class on a Sunday afternoon.

"Do you like that?", he finally asked.

"Greg," I answered, "I feel about sewing classes like you feel about playing soccer."

There was another lengthy pause.

"Have fun at your class," he responded in a decided manner.

I drove off down the road, feeling sure that Gregoire had greatly enlarged his view of the social complexities of the world.