[singlepic=505,560,560,,center]Photo by Mr. Right-Click
Mini has pretty much been a little flirt since the day we brought him home from the hospital. As a baby, he would make eyes with the young college coeds behind us in line at the frozen yogurt place, all the nurses at the pediatric practice, even the woman at the post office who took his passport picture. When he saw a female between the ages of, roughly, 15-65, he would catch their eye, quickly look away, and then glance back through the side of his eye, deploying that brand of expertly feigned shyness that I was never able to perform even after all of my 100 online dates.
As a flirt, Mini is a natural.
But now that he has reached the ripe old age of twenty-two months, Mini is becoming an accomplished ladies’ man. Now, I should note that, wherever we go, Mini does make a point of watching the behavior of little boys who are slightly older than he is, and occasionally pocketing their tricks for use later. I suspect this tendency has something to do with his learning how to open drawers with “baby proof” latches on them, as well as to open doors with “baby proof” covers on their knobs. But he takes little interest in the goings-on of boys who are younger than he or too close in age, since they apparently have little to offer in the way of mischief-making. Girls, on the other hand, are always of interest, regardless of their age and lack of interest in him.
And they are interested in him. Already. There is a little girl at My Gym who follows him around everywhere he goes, and has almost been hit several times by flying swings and bouncy-balls in her pursuit of that Mini-man. Mini moves fast, and she can’t always keep up. I’ll admit that–motherly pride aside–there is a part of me that wants to take the little girl aside and offer her a few tips, because even as a toddler, Mini is just like most men: he’s most interested in the girls he’s not sure he can get. The ones who are clearly interested in him don’t offer much of a challenge, so she needs to take a page from the older siblings who sit on the sidelines of My Gym, coloring in their Hannah Montana books. Mini can’t get enough of those vixens.
Let me tell you, there is nothing that can get Mini to stop in his tracks and flip a U-ie like a disinterested little minx in baby Uggs. Take this weekend: we visited a nearby children’s museum and were outside walking around in their garden/playground area. Mini was walking down a latticework-covered, winding pathway, when he suddenly made a detour through the backside of the topiary in order to enter a grassy area that was unremarkable except for the presence of an 18-month old girl and her parents. Once there, he started displaying his jumping prowess to impress his new conquest, but she wasn’t having it.
No matter. Because the 18-month-old was yesterday’s news when Mini spied twin girls of about five years old. He immediately turned around and followed them to the jungle gym climbing area that is shaped like a spider’s web. That’s right–the one he had been scared of just a few minutes before. They easily scaled the spiderweb frame, and Mini–not to be outdone–tried to follow after them, though they never noticed. I kept calling to him, “Mini, come on, dude–THIS WAY,” but it’s no use: he goes into a trance around little girls for which my much-touted Mommy skills are no match.
Sigh. I think his teenage years are going to be somewhat trying. But as long as I don’t catch him drinking Courvoisier and using candles for mood lighting, I think I’ll be able to handle it.