Little Children

Tonight I went to Coldstone Creamery for dinner. Yes, ice cream for dinner. Not healthy, but I had a gift card.

A harried looking woman with three boys was ordering ice cream for her older sons. Her youngest son, a little blond boy of about one, who his mother called Sam, was running around. He was kind of grubby, and had a cut under one eye, but he was cute and he smiled at me while he pointed at all the toppings, which were fascinating to both of us. I talked to him a little while we waited.

Finally the woman seemed ready to go and was in the process of corraling her older sons. I wasn't really paying attention, but suddenly something was flung against my lower half. I looked down to see Sam wrapped around my leg.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Sam's mom came walking over to us. "Sam, that's not me. I think you're confused."

I smiled at her while Sam held on. "He thinks you're me," she said. I looked down at Sam, who smiled at me without that bewildered look that kids normally have when they realize they have the wrong person. I didn't argue with his mother, but I think he knew exactly who I was.

And it was very cute, and made me happy.

A few years ago I was at the airport watching a man come down the hallway toward baggage claim after exiting his plane. When he opened the door and stepped into the baggage claim area, a blond four-year-old, who couldn't have been more excited, called "Daddy!" and came flying across the floor into her father's open arms. Her mother (his wife) followed. She gave her husband a rueful smile and a kiss, because really, she couldn't top that.