>My friends and their adorable blond imp of a one-year-old daughter are visiting me this week. Yesterday they thought that she would enjoy the dioramas at the Museum of Natural History, so we walked the block and a half from my apartment in the suffocating heat for an afternoon in the dark and cool museum among the dead stuffed animals. When we arrived, Friends’ Daughter loved the dioramas as much as they thought she would.
As soon as we were in a relatively uncrowded room, they released her from her jail of a stroller. She immediately began toddling toward a display case with African masks, but made a detour on the way. A little boy, who seemed to be about 5 or 6, was standing near a bench fiddling with his backpack. In the meantime, he put his little robot-Transformers-thingee toy down on the bench. He watched Friends’ Daughter intently as she approached. Just as she reached out to pick up the toy, he snatched it up and gave her an incredibly dirty look. She just looked back at him sweetly.
His camp group was leaving, and he went to join them. On his way out, he repeated spun around to look back at Friends’ Daughter and glare at her. “You just watch it, lady,” his eyes said, “I’ve got your number.” Friends and I laughed hysterically. One of my friends commented how amazing it was that such a young kid could hold a grudge like that.
I wonder if I began my impressive grudge-holding career (and believe me, I am a champion) began at such a tender age.