I'm watching Grand Theft Parsons the other night and Ari comes into the room and sits in my lap. The movie makes a few quick references to Joshua Tree. She picks up on her brother's name being mentioned and exclaims excitedly, "They said Joshua's name!"
"You're right," I say. I congratulate her on being perceptive.
Then, she adds, "I wish they'd say my name."
I smile, hug her, and reassure her that I say her name all of the time when I'm talking about her to my friends at work.
She giggles like I've been joshing her and says, "Oh, daddy. You don't have any friends."
I guess I can see why she'd think that. Her mom and I really do need to improve on our social circle. But it feels like a burn nonetheless.
Indignantly, I tell her, "As a matter of fact, I do have friends. Lots of friends even."
She pauses and gives me a look that may be kindness or may only be pity. She doesn't believe her daddy.
"You can play with my friends, daddy."
Well, it is nice of her to share.