Yesterday was such a glorious, blowy day that I demanded to be taken to the park. I promised the Boy that we could get fast food & picnic near the lake. He was tired & unwilling to leave his projects, but the prospect of burgers turned the tide & he packed up to go.

There was a squirrel in the park. One imagines that this squirrel is the reincarnation of some illustrious sneak thief, or that it is possessed of the Biblical demons calling themselves Legion. But it was probably just your garden-variety squirrel. It first came to our attention when it started foraging around my feet. The Boy grabbed a camera. As he opened the shutter, it darted onto the table. I started to freak.

”Boy! Get the food!” I grabbed the fries and held them against my chest. The squirrel continued to advance. The Boy took pictures & I yelled at him. “Not the pickles!!” I screamed, and rescued the pickles. “Boy! PUT DOWN THE CAMERA!!!” He acted as if he hadn’t heard, still looking for his shot. In despair, I snatched up the drinks and plunked them into the stroller.

The squirrel kept coming. I started to get scared.

The Boy, acting out of some kind of demented Far Side logic, put his arms up and yelled at the squirrel. The squirrel, unruffled, made as if to jump in the baby carriage.

I snapped. “No baby for you!” I howled, and pushed the stroller as far as I could with my arms full of food.

Later, the Boy tried to downplay the incident. “It wasn’t going at the food.” I stared at him stonily, finishing the cold french fries. “You get no food,” I replied, “because you didn’t help me save it.”

”Aw, come on! I tried to scare it away!”

”By snapping pictures? By raising your arms??”

”Are there any more pickles?”

”Not for you.” I smiled at Blake. “Poor little guy. Your daddy would’ve let the squirrel take you away. You’d be One-Tooth, the Squirrel Boy. Years later, my dad would play a baseball tournament here and catch a glimpse of you in the trees.” He grinned at me, showing his tiny eponymous razor. I fixed the Boy with a fisheye. “All these years we’ve joked about your prehistoric ancestors, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen why. It’s a miracle you’re here. And that you survived to breed.”

”That should tell you something,” he said.

Before the Sprout was born, I saw a birth announcement in the midwives’ office that showed a nude family. There were a lot of naked babies, but in this picture everyone was in the buff. We giggled about it like 6th graders. But in giving Blake a bath tonight, I totally understand. I understand why moms and dads threaten to eat up their babies. I understand.

I am passionately in love with my baby. Not in a weird sexual way, of course, but I’m greedy for him. I want this little guy cuddled next to me until the end of time. The feel of his cheek against mine just reminds me of that.

Once in awhile I’ll leave him in his crib to play, or push him in his stroller. Whenever I talk to him after these play periods, he favours me with a heartbreaking grin. If I stick my head close to him, he’ll stretch out a pudgy hand and holding my face, he’ll smile & coo to me. It is to swoon.

I’m so deeply in love with him that it’d be embarrassing…except that all my friends and family know why as soon as they see him. He’s a little bit of magic.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 5/29/2004 09:40:00 p.m.