Just about this time of year, before Covid-19 but still within the span of "Rites of back to schools" I was at the neighborhood drug store to pick up some prescriptions. While waiting I wandered the aisles jess looking.
There was a mother with her daughter who was picking out her "Back to School" supplies. The daughter was at the age where everything had to coordinate; pencils and pencil box had to match and not be like "HERs" (I never found out who "HERs" was but it was clearly important); folders and binders and erasers and paste and ... all the very most important things that she had wanted her whole life were selected, compared and either rejected immediately or accepted. The little girl was truly serious about the importance of the quest and as she paraded up and down the aisle her long pony tail swished and swung and dominated her personal space.
Now my hair had grown fairly long recently, certainly no match for hers which came about halfway down her back.
The mom was just looking on with only the very occasional comment or reminder of things that were needed.
"That's quite a pony tail" I said. "I wish I knew how to make a pony tail."
The little girl stopped and turned to look up at me and with hands on hip said; "Even a First Grader knows how to make a pony tail!"
I laughed but her mom said "That's not nice to say!" only to get the response of "But it's true!"
Mom turned and apologized but I explained there was no problem and that maybe her daughter could teach me how to make a pony tail.
Laughing I turned my back to the little girl and knelt down. She grabbed my hair and pulled hard enough that I was sure I'd never be able to shut my eyes again. She pulled and twisted and produced a thing like a fat rubber cloth covered rubber band like magic and with a constant stream of instructions punctuated by random commentary created my very first pony tail.
"Did you go to school?"
"You have really skinny hair!"
"You are going bald!"
"Your hair really is too skinny!"
"You're really old!"
Mom was laughing and telling daughter those weren't polite to the tune of repeated "But it's true Mom!"s and I'm on my knees in the middle of Walgreen being tortured by a second or third grader.
But I did end up with a pony tail and did learn enough to be able to make one on my own when desired and she did finally find all the essentials to go to school.
Good story. The simple open honesty of children told in a matter of fact way with no other intention than being honest. Chances are she'll remember it for many years too.