My daughter is obsessed with beads right now. It started with a trough of dried beans that she liked to swish around, but then Sarah added a couple of beads. Specifically five small sparkly round beads – one red, one green, two yellows, and one clear. She doesn’t care about lousy old beans anymore. She spends hours picking the beads up one by one, moving them from the floor to a container and back again. She is so obsessed by doing this that she’s gone through some major potty regression over the last week. Apparently this inane activity is so entertaining that she would rather continue to move the beads back and forth and sit in a diaper caked in feces than pause the five minutes it would take to let us know, take her to the potty and change her. Sarah and I actually had conversations about whether we should take the beads away – like they were a XBox or a Nine Inch Nails album.
I wish I had this kind of OCD – selective OCD, mind you – the kind you could turn on and off. Imagine getting on a plane for a 6 hour flight, and realizing that you’ve forgotten to bring a book, a computer, or your IPod. And there’s no movie. You look around at the strangers around you. They were not so forgetful when they packed. They immediately pull out their Daniel Steele books and plug in to what sounds faintly like Dione Warwick, projecting that not so subtle message that they don’t want to talk to you. Well, let’s see, what do I have in my pockets? Hmmm…keys, some change, a wadded- up piece of paper that used to be a receipt, and some dog treat remnants. Fascinating! I think I’ll spend the next 4,000 miles moving them from one pocket to the other! It would be great. Plus when your traveling companions are asked by their friends or family in baggage claim, “How was your flight?” they will have a great story to tell about the crazy guy they sat next to.