Toddler in the Library

One morning I’m sitting at a table in the library on my laptop, facing a row of Library computers which are open for the public to use. Directly in front of me is a young mother and her toddler; an adorable little girl in a pink and black spotted jacket and jeans with matching pink sneakers. The tiny shoes always get me, and make me feel all motherly/mushy inside I guess, anyroad I digress.

The tot isn’t interested in sitting in the chair beside her mother and so her mother keeps pausing what she’s doing to reel the little girl in. Then, when the mother’s on the phone handling the usual adult affairs, the little girl wanders around my table– and I watch her. I watch her round my table from left, behind me, to right and as she gets to my right side our eyes meet.

She stares blankly, I stare pointedly and watch her pause to turn to face me a little more. I aim my index finger back to her mother and watch her brows arch. She doesn’t move. I nod my head to her and steal an intentional look to her mother, still pointing to her, and then back to the little girl. She looks at her mother as I had– still on the phone and unawares, then to me and my silent insistence.

She bows her head in defeat. With a quiet little sigh, she toddle’s along back toward her mother with a pout.

I catch a lady Librarian gazing at the whole incident from her reference desk, over a computer monitor just low enough for me to catch the bulge of her amused cheeks, and we share a glance before watching the tot complete her short trip back to the chair she was supposed to be sitting in.

The moment made my morning.

|| another-proser ||