My first squealer...
I sat at at table in the Border's coffee shop, pecking away at my laptop, trying hard to decide if I needed to use "who" or "whom" and if I screwed it up, would anyone really notice?
As I mentally hemmed and hawed, a woman walked up to the counter with a little boy in tow. He was impossible to not hear: Mommy! Mommy! Look! Look! Look! Look!
Mommy whispered harshly, "Shhhh."But look! Looklooklooklooklook!
Through gritted teeth, "Stop."But it's THUMPER!
As I looked up and wiggled my fingers in a wave to the little guy, she was leaning over reminding him it's not polite to point.
I didn't mind; he's my first munchkin-squealer. It was funny.
I went back to my mental gymnastics, and within a few seconds he was right beside the table. "I can touch it?"
I nodded and said sure, and leaned down a little so he could rub an index finger over my tattoo.
That's when Mom realized he was no longer beside her, and came over to get him, apologizing profusely.It's Thumper!
he told her again.
I'm not sure what her intent was when they first entered the coffee shop, but she got their drinks to go and left, dragging him behind her, listening to "Thumper!" until she was out of earshot.
She seemed embarrassed, but really, the kid made my day.