Simplicity

Today a colleague brought his daughter with him to visit my office.  When you work in politics, you often have colleagues you never see.  (You also sometimes have colleagues you see too much, but that’s a story for a different day.)  It’s a shame because, as in this case, I usually quite like them and would enjoy working with them in person more regularly.  But you take the face time you can get and be thankful that their presence is a pleasure, rather than a pain.

So when he walked in this morning with his adorable munchkin, it was an instant bright spot in a dreary SoCal day.  I really like this particular colleague, and his daughter is a happy little thing.  I’ve met her a few times before now, not enough that she’d remember me, but every time I see her she is sunny and bright and curious and charming.  She smells like classic toddler: a little sweet, like she’s been dipped in candy floss and like she farts cupcakes – though when she did fart it did not smell like cupcakes.

As happens to most of us when a child suddenly appears, I started rooting around in my desk and purse for something to keep this little ray of sunshine occupied.  Her dad was doing tech work on my computer and she was firmly resolved to stay in his arms.  The coloring book I had was for grownups and I had no crayons.  I’d just taken Tigger out of my purse an hour earlier on my way to work.  (You’ll meet Tigger later.)  The Kids’ Mode on my phone is set up for ages three and older.  I realized I had nothing to offer her, which as a dedicated aunt was sort of mortifying.  So I did what we all do when we have nothing to offer a child.

I hid behind my hands.

Her eyes lit up.  Peek-a-boo!  How could I forget Peek-a-boo!?  Number one selling game of all time, Peek-a-boo is more popular than Kick the Can, Go Ask Your Father, and Squish the Worms all rolled into one.  No one in the history of ever has gone wrong with Peek-a-boo… adjusting for age, of course.  If you played Peek-a-boo with me right now I’d think you were dumb.

It wasn’t long before she’d transplanted herself to my arms.  Dad was freed up to work unhindered.  I put music on my phone and stood there with her in my arms for twenty minutes.  We peeked and we booed, we swayed to the music, we booped each other’s noses and we laughed a whole lot.  She held my phone to her face and said “Hello!”  She wiggled around and tried to dance.  She popped her face around the door to play with my assistant, who pretended to be surprised every single time.

She didn’t need me to find a toy.  She needed me to be present.  There’s a much larger commentary in there, but what I took away from today’s exchange was the idea of simplicity.  I had a boss years ago whose favorite motto was KISS: Keep It Simple, Stupid.  It’s a cliche but it has its merits.  I’m as guilty as anyone of letting complications bog me down.  I’m sure that in the past I’ve stopped myself from enjoying something because I was focused on the smaller picture, or the minutiae of ‘Having a Good Time,’ and ‘Making Something Memorable.’   My little visitor today reminded me that simplicity can be as valuable as stuff.

Once I had this revelation, I realized where I’d gone wrong in last night’s dinner.  I know, it’s a pretty weird jump, but bear with me.  One of my favorite comfort foods is a hamburger panini.  It’s my guilty pleasure.  I cook a hamburger patty, slap it between two pieces of thick bread slathered with goat cheese, and press it til the buttered sides are toasty and brown and crisp.  Last night I figured I’d been good with my diet and deserved a treat, so I set about making myself a super fancy version of my secret snack.

It sucked.  It didn’t taste terrible, but it didn’t taste good.  I thought I’d outdone myself on the hamburger patty.  I thought I was a genius for using my new crushed olive chevre, garlic olive oil, and some oat/wheat/fiber/granola/rhubarb/whatever bread.  Add tapenade, some extra capers, a little spinach because why not, et voila!  Except not.  Non to the voila.  In trying to make every piece complicated and special, all the ‘special’ cancelled out and I landed at bland.  I ended up with something complicated that I didn’t want, and didn’t really even like.

I won’t try again tonight, because the meal is decadent.  It also left a literal and figurative bad taste in my mouth.  But I love my hamburger paninis so I know I’ll come back to them.  When I do it’ll be potato bread, butter, an unflavored patty, and herbed chevre.

It’ll be simple and delicious.