Courting Miss Maya
After a two-year courtship, I’ve finally been admitted to granddaughter Maya’s inner circle.
I’ve always had a way with babies and little kids, and blissfully assumed that Maya would find my charms irresistible. Things started off well. At an Easter brunch when she was two months old, she became fussy after feasting on her mother’s milk. Anxious to be a hero, I scarfed down my meal, skipped dessert, and offered to take her for a walk.
Holding her close to my chest for comfort and warmth and using my best soft, hypnotic voice, I spent half an hour explaining nature to her while walking around outside the restaurant. I explained how grass turns green in the Spring, that flowers send shoots through the soft earth with promises of future blooms, and birds of all sizes and colors return to serenade us with their songs during the Summer. Not forgetting the bees, I told her they flit from blossom to blossom, pollinating fruits and vegetables and making honey to sustain their hives. She quieted down, stayed awake, and I was confidant we’d bonded for life.
Imagine my shock six months later, as I cautiously approached her, comfortably nestled in her mother’s arms. Instead of swooning, or at least smiling, she clouded up and began crying. Shattered, I withdrew but continued talking, thinking perhaps she needed to hear a little more of my voice to recall our magical bonding experience.
My hypnotic voice, and probably all the important stuff I’d told her about nature that beautiful Easter morning, hadn’t stuck in her memory. Every time I moved the least bit closer, she’d cloud up. She’d cloud up whenever I came between her and either her mom or my wife. And she’d cloud up even if she could see me, but not them.
Her eyes remained locked on me whenever I was in a room with her. Ever the optimist I thought, “Aha. She’s fascinated with me; it’s only a matter of time until we’re buddies.” Patience and playing hard to get became my new strategy.
Her one-year birthday came and went. Whenever I was in her vicinity, she’d continue watching me every second, and move as far away as possible. My new strategy suited her just fine.
Then, shortly after she turned two, the breakthrough came. One morning, before breakfast, she was sitting in her high chair and I was safely across the kitchen with a counter separating us. As we looked at one another, I broke into a smile and did a version of the “twist.” She smiled and started twisting in the chair. We repeated our dance a few times over the next couple of days.
Emboldened, I screwed up my face with a silly-clown smile and held out my arms inviting her to come to me. She demurely smiled, looked down and turned her head to the side, slowly shook it, and purred, “Nooooo.” She’s a big flirt and had fallen for one of my silly games. We repeated this game a few times and added other nonsensical ones, and I taught her a couple of new words: “Goll-eee” and “Gees Whilikers.”
Now she’d almost two-and-a-half and we’re in like Flynn. We play impromptu, silly games, dance to jivy music, and play the piano together. She loves to play “ide and geek” (hide and seek) with me.
I love being in Maya’s inner circle. The courtship is an interesting, fun part of all special relationships.
Jim Waun
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