My dad took the whole family to brunch on Easter Sunday. We sat, all 14 of us, under filtered sunlight in a lovely but slightly too warm atrium. Banshee Boy, whom we now call Happy Jack, was dressed up in his Easter duds, looking almost like a little man if it weren’t for those perfectly round, perfectly smooth, perpetually flushed cheeks. He sat in the highchair the server brought for him and ate torn-off pieces of waffle or pancake or whatever he could stuff in his always smiling, 4-toothed mouth.
He was such a good little boy. Frankly, I always cringe when I’m in a restaurant and diners sitting near me have a baby or a toddler. My thriving inner curmudgeon waits for the screaming or the crying or the food throwing to begin. Once those things do happen, as my inner curmudgeon predicted and possibly even willed just so I’d have something to curmudge about, I scowl openly at the parents who don’t take the child outside or discourage wasteful pancake throwing.
But Happy Jack did none of those things.
Okay. Sure, he did — every few minutes — glance around our table, blue eyes bright with glee, and let out a short little crow of delight that was, yes, a bit loud and kind of high-pitched, but it wasn’t distress or anger or frustration. It didn’t precede a bout of waffle throwing or highchair thrashing. No, the kid would smile big enough to break his apple cheeks and just ….. crow. It was more like a little screech of joy. My brother would dutifully shush him, but the outbursts weren’t sustained enough to necessitate his removal and they weren’t tantrums either. It was just a mini eruption, done with such obvious delight that the diners around us began to smile too. They would poke each other, chuckle, and point to the roly poly little boy in his highchair, expressing his happiness in the only way he could think of:
By crowing.
He actually became quite a popular figure in that lovely but slightly too warm atrium.
And here is our Happy Jack, caught mid crow:
Luckily, I did not crow when seeing this picture – the coworkers would have probably complained. But he is smooshably cute.
NF — I’m sorry, but it’s the teefs that are killing me here. The teefs!! All 4 of ’em.
Also, those arms are looking mighty tasty.
He’s so darned adorable it ought to be illegal. Or fattening. Maybe both.
Oh my gosh, he is so happy.
and yes – I love the extraneous roll in the forearm.
The arms are like those bake ‘n’ serve rolls you get from the bakery section at the grocery store.
Tracey, he is so beyond adorable and if he and Buttercup do not hit it off I would like to offer our own little roly poly girl who also howls with delight!!