Fan Club

Alison’s class went on their first field trip last week.

I chaperoned, of course, because I’m an excellent parent.  And also because a certain number of volunteer hours are required, and field trips knock out a whole lot of them in one shot.

Right after we got there, I overheard a parent asking the teacher to point out which kid was “Alison”.

Being the even-tempered, non-confrontational person I am, I whipped my head around so fast I got a little dizzy, and then eavesdropped. 

What, wouldn’t you?

Turns out, Alison has a little bit of a fan club.  Made up entirely of boys in her class.  All of whom clamor to sit next to her, vote for her as best reader, and hope for some of her attention.

Yes, a fan club at the age of five. 

After I confirmed with the teacher that this was, in fact, an innocent thing she had under control, I looked at my girl and cheered for her silently.

My shy, socially awkward child has a fan club.  My different child.  Has a fan club.

And while she probably won’t always have one – good Lord, I hope she doesn’t always have one, – I want to put this moment down in words for Alison. 

Because, one day, probably deep in the throes of teen angst, she’s going to tell me no one likes her, and that she doesn’t have any friends.

When that day comes, I want her to know that without even trying, she was adored.  By someone other than her mom and dad, of course, since we don’t count when it comes to that sort of thing.

Let’s just hope this whole fan club thing doesn’t go to her head.