MANDY FLYNN: Innocent comments can cause fear

Her brother doesn’t like me very much.

“You are so precious,” I said as I bent down to congratulate the tiny little girl with her tiny little tutu, her tiny little ballet shoes and her tiny little ballerina bun. Her tiny little cheeks were pink and her tiny little eyes sparkled with the joy of a dancer after her year end dance recital. She was a happy girl.

“You are so adorable… Seriously, I could eat you up!”

The little girl smiled and her mother and I began to chat when her only slightly older brother interrupted.

“Why would you want to eat a little girl?” he asked. “That wouldn’t be nice. That would hurt.”

Well, alrighty then. He did have a point.

“Honey, she doesn’t really want to eat your sister,” his mother explained. “That’s just something people say when they think something is really cute.” He looked at her, then at me, then at his sister, then at me again. I could tell. He was not convinced. I felt the need to apologize to this maybe five year old whom I’d obviously traumatized.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” I told him. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to eat your sister. And you are a good big brother to protect her.” His mother chuckled and I started to pat him on the arm when he backed up a half inch.

Oh, no, I thought. He’s scared of me now. He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I eat little children! My mind raced back to visions of the old witch that lured Hansel and Gretel to the cottage in the woods by feeding them gobs of candy, then put them in a cage and fattened them up so she could eat them. Oh, no! He thinks I’m an old, candy-wielding witch from the woods!

When I was little, my grandfather used to steal my nose. Take it right off my face. He’d make a fist around my nose and pull it back to reveal… yep, my nose. Tucked right between his two fingers. I’d scream and holler — my nose, my nose! — until he’d put it back. Whew, that was close.

“Why does Granddaddy not want me to have a nose?” I remember asking.

“Oh, he’s just playing with you,” mama said. “He’s just having fun.”

It took me a few times to realize Granddaddy hadn’t really ripped my nose off my face. It was just his thumb, tucked between his fingers to look like the tip of my nose. I get it now…

I never said I was a smart child.

Unlike the tiny dancer’s big brother, who obviously was not buying my apology. He inched closer to his sister as I said my goodbye.

“You did such a good job,” I told the tiny, little ballerina.

“What do you say?” her mother prompted, and the little girl said thank you and smiled. She was happy. Then, in a quiet yet determined voice… not rude… not disrespectful… just matter-of-fact, her brother mumbled just loud enough for me to hear.

“You say please don’t eat me.”

Well, alrighty then. I have learned my lesson.

I will never again say someone is so adorable I could eat them up. I will respect the fact that some of the innocent, sweet intentioned things we say and do to little children might just be traumatizing them.

For that matter, I will also never try to steal anyone’s nose. Because that maybe did scar me a just a little bit.

Seriously, don’t touch my nose.

Email features columnist Mandy Flynn at [email protected].