Crush

The boy was clearly on a mission. Unlike most six year olds who come into the store and must be told repeatedly "don't touch that! Put it down I said!" this kid scanned the room until he located the greeting cards and made a beeline. He looked back at his father, a tall, Asian man man in his mid to late thirties with a neat haircut, long arms and the look of someone who seems surprised that instead of going out to the Meat Packing District for beautiful drinks in Armani he is going to t-ball games and parent-teacher conferences in J. Crew.

"Go ahead, pick one out," the dad said with feigned impatience. Feigned because the father is a repeat customer who, I know, really enjoys looking at all the stuff in the store. He's a gadget guy and we carry... gadgets.

The little boy stared up at the cards and began to contemplate with his left index finger on his chin and the right hand supporting the left arm at the elbow. He wore a red baseball cap that was cocked ever so-slightly to the right. He was a small Asian kid with a large head and fragile neck, even features, a little bow of a mouth and large, perfect black eyes. He looked kind of delicate but I guessed he was pretty competitive... kids with that kind of focus are looking for perfection and that means winning, but with manners. He was unbelievably charming. The father began to wander around. We made small talk about a hard-boiled egg shell cracker he had been looking for and could not find. Time passed. The boy made calculations. Finally the dad sighed.

"Okay, kid. Pick something," he said. The boy pointed to a card out of his reach. His father retrieved it. "That one says 'happy birthday'," he reported. The boy's face fell and then, undeterred, resumed staring. "Can I help you pick something out?" I asked. The boy looked at me with shy muteness and slowly shook his head. He motioned for his father to stoop down and whispered something in his ear. Then his dad straightened and the boy pointed at a card with a picture of a bicycle built for two on it and a caption that said "I love you."

"Are you looking for something for your mom?" I asked.
"He's looking for a thank you card for his teacher," the father informed me. "And he's in love with his teacher." I shot a glance at the little boy, sure he would blush or exclaim, but he wasn't phased at all. I, on the other hand, was overcome with a warm, gushy feeling- earnestness in children makes me melt and I started grinning like and idiot.

"Well that one is pretty perfect then," I said. The boy looked. Then he pointed to a card with a red flower on it. "That says 'Happy Birthday' too," his dad said. The boy stared at him as though his father were doing this to him on purpose.

"What?" His father protested. "It does! See?" He took the card down and showed the boy the words. He sucked on his lower lip. He looked from the bicycle card to flower and back.
"Look," said his dad. "Here's a flower card that says 'thank you.' Let's get this one." But I could see right away this card would be unacceptable. The flower was blue, not red and as we all know, love is not blue... it's red. Duh.

The boy stared at the blue flower ruefully and I kept grinning like a dope and thinking "if I had a kid like this, I could be okay with being a mom. I could." The boy held the blue flower card and the bicycle card and conferred with his dad for a while. "Well why don't we ask her? She's a lady. See which one she likes better," said his father.

The boy approached me, and held up the cards and just looked at me. "Well, don't just stand there, ask her!" His father rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Which one do you like better?" the boy whispered.
"Hmmm.." I said. "Hmmm. Well, I like that the bicycle says 'I love you,' but you know what I like about the flower?" He shook his head. "The flower is sort of like a coloring book picture, and you could color it red." His eyes lit up. "And I really like it when someone draws something just for me. I bet your teacher will too." The boy looked back at his father. I knew he couldn't quite picture a blue flower colored red and he still had his doubts, but I also knew that he did not think a bicycle was romantic enough. They discussed buying a card that said "happy birthday" and had a red flower versus buying a card that said "thank you" and had a blue flower that could be colored red. I was so absorbed in their decision making that I did not realize I was staring... and ignoring other customers until I heard a woman clear her throat (when had she come in? had she been there the whole time?) I apologized and rang her up. When I turned back the boy stood there with his choice. A dog.

"Um," I said. The card did say 'thank you' on it, but...
"He's going to color it red," the dad sighed. A red dog? I liked this child more and more. "Excellent choice!" I said. "I'm sure she will love it!" And if she doen't she's dead inside.

The boy didn't smile but he looked pleased.
"Okay, tike, give the lady the money." The boy handed me a bill and was ready to run out the door.
"Don't you want your change?" I asked. He ran back and held out his hand. I handed him his change. "Thank you," he whispered. "You're very welcome," I whispered back and winked at him in a way that I hoped was friendly and not creepy. I think kids can tell when you want to kidnap them. But maybe that's giving them too much credit.

.......

About an hour later, father and son were at the door again. The boy was clearly fighting back tears and the father was genuinely annoyed.
"He thinks he messed up the drawing," the father apologized.

The boy handed the card to me and I nearly absconded with him. He had created an amazing drawing around the picture of the dog (which was now two shades of red and totally awesome). I couldn't believe he was so disappointed. Most kids twice his age couldn't draw so well and I said so.
"This is a wonderful drawing, kid," I said. "I'm sorry you don't like it, but I can promise you that your teacher will not only like it, she will love it." The boy looked a little less upset, but there was no way he was giving that drawing to his true love. He retrieved a new card. And a set of heart shaped magnets. I looked at his father who still seemed a little annoyed, but amused. Clearly he liked seeing a stranger admire his son's drawing skills and I was so happy to oblige. I charged them half for the new card. I would have given them away for free if it hadn't seemed wierd or if the father would have let me, which, of course, he would not. "Thank you," the boy whispered. "You're welcome, kiddo," I said and silently wished him really wonderful things in life.