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It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday

For the last few months, whenever Weevy has mentioned something in the past, she says it happened “yesterday,”  pronounced “Yeh-stoo-day.” The thing is, “yesterday” could mean yesterday, or it could mean six months ago.  It could even mean earlier today — once she’s taken her midday nap, anything that happened in the morning also becomes “yesterday” too.

To know what the hell she’s talking about when she refers to yesterday, you have to have a pretty sharp and quick memory.  Take a question as innocuous as “Did we do that at the playground yesterday?”  First, I think, did we go to the playground yesterday?  And if the answer is yes, did we do the thing she’s talking about?  Unfortunately, the answer to one or both of those parts is usually “no.”  Weevy may be young, but her memory for random, not-particularly-memorable events is quite sharp.  So the key is to frantically rifle through the file cabinets of my own memory while asking her leading questions — “Do you remember where we were at the playground when we did it?  What were you wearing?”  Anything at all to speed up recall a little bit.

There are some other events that legitimately qualify as milestones, notably the time she puked all over her bed and herself due to a stomach virus.  That was last fall, but she still says, on occasion, “I yakked yesterday.”

But a real, serious milestone involves her friend B., who moved with her family to California a couple of months ago.  B. was Weevy’s first real friend, and despite B’s being a selfish, tantrum-throwing, toy-grabbing pain in the ass, she could also be a sweet girl, and Weevy was nuts about her regardless, even if their playdates as often as not ended with one or both of them bawling.

When it came time for them to see each other for the last time, we tried to convey the magnitude of the event to them, but neither of them was really interested in fond reminiscences and tearful farewells.  So they swung on the swings, the parents commiserated, and… that was it.  Weevy on some level knew she couldn’t see B. anymore, and she knew B. was in California, whatever that was.  They even managed to have an online play date which according to the missus went quite well.  But she’s still a little confused.  She wants to go to their house, even if they’re not there, so she can play with B’s toys.  She wants to see B’s nanny, which I actually ought to try to make happen.  She wants to know why she can’t see B.

Time and space.  Separately, they’re pretty hard to wrap one’s brain around, but collectively, they’re a real bitch.

Regardless, Weevy has a new best friend, Olivia, a very pretty half-Asian girl whom she met at Gymboree.  Their get-togethers usually seem to revolve around Olivia playing and Weevy bouncing around in her wake hollering “It’s Olivia!”  Thankfully Olivia seems to have none of B’s deficits, instead displaying a quiet, confident charm, possibly owing to the fact that she’s a year older than V.  I hope this is the start of a beautiful friendship.  Or at least I hope they don’t move to California.


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