I didn't realize this trait had carried over into my children until we were expecting the exterminator to come and they were telling exterminator stories.
Exterminator stories. Really? All he does is come in and silently traipse through the house with his little backpack and spray wand. Then I hand him a check and he leaves.
There's no interaction. My children don't say a word to him, and yet he's left enough of an impression on their lives to warrant stories.
It makes me wonder what kind of lasting impression we make on others, no matter how fleeting, when we think we are living in isolation and touching no one.
It makes me wonder if the claim 'it's my life and I can do what I want' is really true. Is it my life?
Only my life? I effect no one else? Isn't that a little narcissistic?
Aren't the things we do like little ripples of water touching the ripples of other's lives and creating new patterns?
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