Smitten

As soon as he got here this morning, he peeked over the half-wall and smiled.  "Kitty Jane is here, Mommy!"

Kitty Jane.  She's his girl.  He's three and she's five but he's smitten with that kitten.  She's the girl with the messy ponytail and the big eyes.  She has a shine to her hair that comes from too much pool time.  I don't know if he's ever spoken directly to her or her to him or if he just admires her from afar--her spunk, her charisma, her older woman status in the YMCA play room.  She has a friend named Audrey who is sometimes mentioned too.  And she loves Katy Perry's "Dark Horse."  If know because every time it comes on the radio, he shouts out her name and says, "Let's play Kitty Jane and Audrey, Mommy!"

So I lingered awhile today as I watched him run into the play room.  I stood back and watched him over the half-wall as his full-out sprint transitioned into a cool-guy shuffle.  I wondered if he was going to pull a comb out of his back pocket and run it through his hair or maybe find a jacket to swing over his shoulder.  Instead of Danny Zuko, he ended up looking a lot more like Forrest Gump, shuffling towards her awkwardly with wide eyes, head bobbling back and forth, hands on his hips.

She was playing with the girls, something involving dolls.  He got as close as he dared and coyly picked up a toy airplane and walked away as if he had more important things to do than eye Kitty Jane, pine for her, wish he could somehow penetrate her inner circle.  He put down the airplane and got closer, moved into the dollhouse play, just a seat away from Kitty Jane.  And that's where I left him, sheepishly smiling.  The little boy who knows a good thing when he sees it.  Someday he might have the courage to walk up to her at karaoke night, tell her, "Nobody puts Baby in the corner," tell her he's too drunk to drive home, so could he have a ride?  Eight years later, BAM!  The most precious thing on earth, a three-year-old, little Charlie, puttin' the moves on the girls with the messy hair and the big eyes at the YMCA play room.  Circle of life.