Don’t Stalk People in Supermarkets, it’s Weird.
We live in a quiet town on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and the school Ruth works at is relatively new and whilst the facilities are absolutely brilliant, it does mean one thing, outside of other teachers in the school, there are almost zero expats living in the area. As amazing and impressive as the Malaysian, Chinese and Korean kids in L’s class are at being bi-lingual there is inevitably still a bit of a language barrier at this age. L is also the oldest in the class by quite a way so finding another four year old who is able to recite the entire transcript of ‘The princess and the frog’ in their second language, which is pretty much all L wants to play, is not an easy task.
It’s important for young kids to have different groups of friends, especially when coming from a pretty close community in England where both kids had a lot of different friendships groups. Whilst she has made a handful of good friends here already, she would certainly benefit from widening that circle. We signed her up for various classes like swimming and gymnastics lessons for a while but it didn’t really work out for various reasons.
As there are very few expats around, 9 times out of 10 when you see one wandering around, you expect to know who they are, the other day however this wasn’t the case. Me and T were loitering outside the supermarket and I saw a Dad with a young girl, about L’s age wander in. They didn’t look like tourists, the Dad didn’t have a camera around his neck, nor was he sporting a socks and sandals combo, he was walking with a purpose, this guy wasn’t on holiday, he was a full-on resident with a daughter the same age as mine! These two are going to be best friends!
So What Now?
Was I literally going to following this family of expats into the supermarket to try and strike up a conversation with the hope of getting his daughter to be friends with mine? I haven’t chatted anyone up in 10 years! I mean I know I have a different agenda this time but I’ve still got butterflies, not only am I out of practice, but I don’t I think my usual ‘shimmying on over the dancefloor’ will have the desired effect this time either.
(I say that as if it ever worked…it never ever did)
So rather than me retelling it, I’ll just show you a screenshot of my texts to Ruth as and when it was unfolding.
… I definitely should have shimmied!