Evan

Wednesday night I walked three blocks south to visit my friend Sarah and her five month old son Evan. Sarah prepared fish tacos as I sat at the kitchen table keeping her company. I held little Evan on my lap and gently poked his Buddha belly. At first he seemed not to mind, but soon grew squirmy. I turned him around to face me. His face lit up in delight, his eyes big as saucers and directed straight at my chest (reminiscent of my fifty-something super who can't help himself when he sees a pretty girl in a tight tanktop). Evan, overcome with excitement, grabbed fistfuls of my hair. Embarrassed, I pretended that he was distracted by my long curls. Sarah laughed and said "No sense in pretending. Things are really transparent at his age." Some things are hard-wired nearly from birth.