ladykiller

Liam played his first t-ball game last night. Although he doesn't really know the rules or the positions, just how to whack a ball, chase it down with his mitt in tow, and throw it to whoever happens not to be looking, he was Mr. Cool on the field. Nearly all the other players wore baseball pants, but he didn't seem to notice or care that his mom had put him in jeans. His favorite position was catcher and playing the game was the high point of his day. The way his long wavy hair curled out of his hat and his too big shirt was knotted to the side, one might think this boy was the ladykiller. But no.


100 yards away from the game, the king of playground was being swooned over by three teenage girls. For 40 minutes - until I went and physically rescued him - three cute and silly high schoolers were entirely glued to my three-year-old son. At first, when I heard their piercing laughter, I thought they might be teasing him, so I rushed over to see. Instead, Elliott was putting on a little show for his eager audience, cocking his hip, doing little dances, pointing to anything he could name and shouting "ball," "water," "slide"! Every few seconds one of the girls would squeal and laugh, "Oooooh my gosh, he's so cute!!!"


The girls in their short shorts and long shiny hair followed my goofy little son around the playground without pause. Once they learned his name, they began picking him up and cooing to him, "Hi, Elliott." "Where do you want me to take you, Elliott?"

Elliott would point, stick out his tongue, look coyly to the side, and blurt, "Blah!" The high-pitched squeals of laughter and crooning over his undeniable cuteness would start up all over again.

Sometimes I worry that Elliott will be at a disadvantage in life because of his delays and struggle to comprehend things that other kids his age understand without any difficulty. But last night I had the gift of seeing our developmentally delayed boy in a different light. He was completely independent, happy to entertain the crowd of pretty women surrounding him, without any worry about where his mom or his blankie might be. Although he has gone up and down the playground slide alone before, last night was different. He was showing off. He was performing. And he was loving it.

When I finally broke the spell and went over to retrieve the boy, I asked each girl her name and had Elliott repeat them. Each one swooned as he attempted to wade through the awkward consonants and pronounce their unfamiliar names. Before we walked away, the cutest girl of the bunch looked at Elliott like she was standing in front of Justin Bieber or some other teen idol and blurted all breathily, "Elliott, you are the cutest little boy I've ever met!"

I'm so grateful to those girls for quelling my fears about Elliott being left behind and giving me a peek into a different future. The one where my son is a ladykiller, and he knows it.