Hello People of the world! What’s up?

This week has been all about our favorite travel journeys and why they’re our favorites, today I write yet another post in the series..Picture1

So far, I’ve not had the best experiences with little kids in general (read: http://blog.roomnhouse.com/2014/03/how-i-sabotaged-my-plane-ride/ from last week to see why.)

But last Sunday, by admission, was a welcome change. I’d gone to meet two of my friends at a nearby mall. The bus ride would easily take an hour and a half in rush hour traffic, took only half an hour in the morning! When I got on to the bus, there was a mother with her child in her lap, sitting by the window. I took the seat beside them, because there was no other vacant seat.

As much as I wanted to plug in my headphones and ignore the world, something about the little girl’s happy slapping on the windowsill made me decide otherwise. From what I could gather, they were playing some sort of a weird game, where the mum would point to an object and the daughter would describe it in all contrarian terms (Genius!) Following which, a big red BEST bus became, “a small, yellow, still, light, thing” I could only smile at her description when she turned to me, and offered to tell me a story. Reluctantly I agreed, and what I heard, was a creepy (because a tiny rosy cheeked kid is talking in the softest tone she’s capable of..) yet supremely cool version of Thumbelina. Time flew as she spoke, animatedly, while her mom dotingly looked on; half way through the girl asked for my hand saying she wanted to write something on it. I looked at her mom wondering if she’d allow her daughter to scribble on me, she gave me a reassuring nod. I put my hand out, and she wrote something on it, asked me to make a fist and not see the scribbling until I got off. She then finished her story, which now sounded increasingly Hans Christian Andersen-esque. My stop was next, as I got up to leave I told the daughter that it was a lovely story, turned to the mum and said, “she’s got the story telling future of Hans Christian Andersen!” They both looked at me almost shocked by what I said. Like I killed their cat or something.. I assumed I’d offended them, so I smiled awkwardly and left.

I’d forgotten all about what the little one wrote on my hand, until one of my friends asked me what H.C.A on my palm stood for. I looked at it, and started to tell them what happened, then it hit me, I stopped mid-sentence.

It was my turn to be surprised.



P.S. She wasn’t narrating Hans Christian Andersen’s version of it. I’m not that daft. 😛

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