Sticker Anecdote from Mexico

Where we stayed in between Cancun and Playa del Carmen was billed as a "family friendly" resort, but it was still "Cancun: Party Mecca", and the Generations Maya had plenty of party-people: college-aged co-eds looking to have some fun.

Once upon a time I was definitely a party-person type, and now some folks might say I "drink too much" (even though circumstances have squashed that habit), which is just the remnants of the party-people youth. I get it, and I don't discriminate.

But I have kids, one of which is a daughter under two years old. She is rather sophisticated for being less than two, and she likes stickers. And she likes decorating me with her stickers. Like she did one morning before we left for the breakfast smorgasbord.

As I waited for the waffle lady to get me some waffle pieces for my two kids, a party-person girl, masked up and wearing the requisite bikini-and-shall covering get-up that helps them blend into the masses of similarly aged and dispossessed young ladies, approached me and mentioned how much she loved my stickers.

I had about six Paw Patrol stickers between my wrist and elbow on my left arm. I knew they were there even if I wasn't self-conscious about them. I thanked her and said that my daughter, too, loved them. She responded that, Yes, I'm sure she does.

The entire exchange took only seconds, and was easy to forget. I only really remembered because this past few days Camille found other stickers and got busy with them:

In the moment, in that breakfast space, for about thirty seconds I tried to make sense of the manner of the compliment. 

It reminded me of something else. But time goes on, kids grow, work never really stops, and Halloween approaches.