OBSERVATIONS FROM AN AFTERNOON AT CHURCH . . .

When did I become self-conscious about my appearance?
Yesterday, there was Easter-egg dyeing for the children at our church. As expected, it was a mess and most of us steered clear of the dye station and the gaggle of kids gathered around it, indiscriminately dropping eggs into bowls of blue, lavender, yellow, pink, green and orange dye. IK, a little girl about 2 1/2 years old, spilled an entire bowl's worth of blue dye onto her cute little light blue cotton dress. The spilled splotches created a not-truly-fashionable tie-dyed design, only on the front of the dress, of course. But IK didn't cry. In fact, I don't think she even flinched or thought about drying herself off. She was too busy supervising her eggs. Secretly, I think she thought it was hilarious -- a small rebellion against the required cleanliness of her short life. Never mind that everyone grinned at her, mentally clicking their tongues and quietly thinking "Well, THAT dress will never be worn again!" IK finally took herself to her mother -- the stains had dried and set by now -- to show off her interestingly designed eggs. Mom's only response to the botched tie-dye job: "Look how pretty you look!" IK looked down at herself and grinned.

When did I become shy about chasing boys?
E, a 27-year-old pal of mine, is quite popular with SH and JH, 2 sisters, aged about 3 and 5, respectively. I don't think that they even have little girls' crushes on him -- he just loves annoying them and making them chase after him around and around the church fellowship hall, confusing them by simply crouching down behind another person or running through a doorway and not coming back out. SH and JH streak after him in glee, never realizing that even when he merely walks fast, they can never catch up to him. They shriek and giggle and shrilly order him to stop. Sometimes, JH will just stop in her tracks, turn to me and say "I don't want him anymore" before walking back to her friends. Sometimes SH will shuffle in E's general direction, biting her lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in sheer concentration and will, like a huntress after the kill. Most times, you can distract both girls by sticking food in their faces as they jog by. Other times, you can get them going simply by waggling your eyebrows and hitching a thumb towards the filing cabinet behind which E eagerly awaits the next stage of the chase. Eventually, all three of them become exhausted and join the rest of us for dessert, sitting down like civilized folks. But SH and JH's strategy has me thinking: why can't I chase boys too, with such open glee and adoration and screaming fun?

When did I start worrying about my face?
I don't consider myself particularly prissy or overly self-absorbed regarding my looks. But I always make sure to discreetly blot my shine-prone forehead, nose and chin before getting my photo taken, or going to meet friends, or if I know I'll be involved in lots of close face-to-face time with people. So it was interesting to again watch IK -- she of the tie-dyed dress -- as she peeled off several tiny Easter-egg-decorating stickers and stamped them on her own face. One on the tip of her nose, one on each nostril, one on her chin, one on each earlobe, and three on her not-yet-shiny forehead. The girl probably wouldn't even understand if I tried to tell her about the treacherous T-zone, that enemy of combination-skinned women everywhere, much less the hazards of sticking foreign objects on sensitive facial skin. And then, to my slight discomfort and great amazement, IK went around the room generously offering to decorate all of our faces as well. Me, I was unsure of the state of my own forehead -- it would be embarrassing if my T-zone didn't cooperate and the stickers refused to stick. So I got a little yellow smiling sunshine on my right hand instead. But I sure wished I was 2 1/2 years old, free to stick anything I wanted on my face and have people think I was cute, and, well, lucky.

When did I learn not to take a compliment graciously?
R has impeccable style, of which I am insanely and irrationally envious. R is 8 years old. She has a strong but willowy body that gets her to school and back every day, that picks up her little sister and places her gingerly on a kitchen stool so she can reach the food we're all eating, that creates behind-the-scenes mischief, and that streaks around busily amongst her friends at church. R, simply put, also has cool clothes. She has mastered the sheath dress with gauze overlay, the little white t-shirt with black cardigan, the striped stocking with slightly clunky black shoes, the cross-the-body messenger bag -- canvas, of course. You tell her you like the braid in her hair; she smiles and says "thank you." You admire her hip messenger bag; she grins and says "thank you." You inform her that her dress is very nice; she smiles and says "thank you." You tell her she really has an eye for colors and patterns; she smiles and says "thank you." All this before she runs off to join her friends for volleyball, stuffs her face full of mini-cheesecake, or rescues her sister from a trip over untied shoelaces. What happened, such that if someone says I should wear dresses more often, I shrug my shoulders; if someone says my hair looks good, I say it's a low-humidity day; if someone likes my shirt, I tell them I got it for really cheap at Old Navy; if someone admires my eyelashes, I say it's just genetics? My bad. To all who take the time and energy and love to look at me and care, thank you.