Tuesday, 11 October 2016

In which Persephone remembers how to baby-wrangle

Rees is a tall tall fellow who runs the local organic store with his family. I usually spot him running errands along the main street, but this morning he has shown up at one of the local coffee shops with a muffin and his son Rowan, who is probably about nine months old. (My baby-dating skills are a little rusty.)

Rowan has one of those infant alien heads -- a high dome with wispy tufts of blond hair which is, no doubt, chockfull of brains. As his dad parks his stroller and takes his seat at the neighbouring table, Rowan gazes at me with a faintly uncertain air, but he's young enough to be amused by my removing and replacing my reading glasses, before we graduate to napkin-passing and balled-up-paper-bag-tossing. He adds an ethereal air of mystery to the proceedings by periodically pointing with religious awe to the skylights - until he remembers his father's blueberry muffin.

My mission is to distract him long enough so his dad can eat, but he scores a few pincers of muffin, which he consumes, giving me the grin of someone who has won the round.

I'll concede his victories, but I think the whole thing is a draw.

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