My granddaughter, Bean, is an extrovert. I know this because she was one of those babies who, as soon as she could speak, would say “hi” to strangers at the grocery store. By the time she was two, she was demanding to know, “Why you wearing that hat?” and “where is you list?” and “what’s you name?” Now that she is four, she feels the need to introduce me to everyone before they can make the incorrect assumption that I am her mom. “Hi, I’m Chloe, I’m four. I’m big. This is my Noni. She’s not my Mama,” her standard opening statement, jerking her little thumb at me. The chosen individual, sometimes a sweet-faced elderly lady, who smiles and nods, sometimes a surly teenage boy, who bobs a head and answers a gruff “cool,” before returning his eyes to his phone, is then subjected to a monologue regarding the day’s activities, her animals, her best friends name and the location of her house, while the listener bends forward, eyes flickering to me in surprise when she uses words like, hydration, glamorous and disgusting. Strangely, even the teenage boys do listen and most people respond when she calls out to them as they pass, “I like your dress” or “I have a cat!” The ones who don’t, who hurry by, Bean excuses with a shrug and, “she didn’t hear me”, no self-esteem issues at all. On a recent family trip to Disney, Bean appeared to have as much fun meeting and greeting strangers (with a reluctant adult by her side), at the airport as she did at the parks. She collected names like other people collect stamps. Doug, a pilot from “Textas,” Cheryl, from Alabama on the way to visit her grandchildren, Sarah, a preschool teacher on her way home to NJ and Bud and his wife, congenial and friendly after a leisurely afternoon spent in the airport bar. She chatted with Doug about “plane flying,” sang “Let it Go” with Sarah, and counted to ten in German with Bud, who fondly recounted his old Army days stationed outside of Munich. She saw several of them as we boarded the plane and she greeted them like old friends as she passed their seats, “Hi Cheryl, I’m going to Disney now!” “Awww, You’re all alone!” This, to an attractive middle-aged woman, to which the woman made a sad face and said with a French accent, “I know…so sad for me.” “Bud! Hey, Bud! Eins, zwei…” Her openness and ability to connect with strangers is a gift, something to be admired and encouraged, but this puts those of us who love her on edge of course, as we all know about “stranger danger” and want her to be aware too. We are with her always, but there will come a time when we are not, partially why her Papa is intent on teaching her MMA, but that is a story for another time.
Today, we are first in line at pre-school and she greets all her classmates as they arrive, “Hi Liam. Hi Keira, I’m wearing short sleeves! Alistair, Hi!!!! I’m wearing a dress!” she twirls so that the boy can get the full, splendorous effect of the garment. Not impressed, he sits on the floor, pulls off his sneaker and dumps a small pebble on the floor. Bean, undaunted, moves on to greet the others. Some answer, some smile, one ducks his head, to which Bean stage whispers to me, “HE’S SHY!” There are a lot of shy ones, more shy than not. My children were also shy. They were the ones who turned their heads or hid behind me when strangers asked them questions. They did not strike up conversations with strangers and certainly did not skip up to their teachers with a hearty, “Hi, Mrs. S!!” They did not raise their hands, even when they knew the answer. Bean raises her hand to be called on at school, at church and any time a volunteer is requested. She is a wonder and a joy to her family, especially the more reticent among us, of which there are many. Bean is happiest at a party, a wedding being the ultimate extrovert experience. Birthday parties, her own or anyone elses, a close second. Mingling, networking, small talk with strangers, all dirty words to the introverts in our family, are Bean’s strongpoints. But, the good news is that I am learning from Bean. Smiling at strangers is easier, chatting while standing in line at the grocery store feels more natural, and maybe one of these days I’ll steal a page from Beans book and open with, “Hi, my name is Sue!! I’m 45, I’m wearing short sleeves and I’m big!!!” She would be so proud.
