"The boy exhibits antisocial behavior occasionally, I am afraid."
The mother is doing most of the talking, and her voice is tinged with a slight helplessness. I sat opposite of her on the plastic booth, with two cups of coffee sitting atop the unvarnished table in the play area of McDonald's. Whenever the conversation comes to an awkward stop, I pretend to sip and linger over the coffee.
"But he seems to take a liking in you, have you noticed?"
I nodded in agreement, while glancing at the boy, playing in his own little world.
"So will you be so kind as to watch over him for a few hours this Saturday? Of course you will be paid, according to the hour. What do you say?" The mother let out an entreating look.
It is not so much the pay or the need for someone to watch over the little boy. It was just something that the mother and I wanted to try.
###
The boy is now about seven. I met the mother few years ago in Taipei, when the boy was just a toddler. He had a most beautiful pair of sparkling brown eyes, and always exuded that precious innocence which can only found on children of that age. Whenever I proffered my arms toward him, he would reciprocate his chubby little arms upward to indicate clearance to hold him. It was precious because no one but the mother had the privilege to do this. Not even the father, who was always away. The child is especially shy in his nature, therefore to see that glistening, trusting look in his pretty eyes while holding him gave me a blissful feeling.
The marriage between the mother and the father was not one to be envied. Despite their good looks, reasonable wealth and good family background, they got off on a rough sailing and the boat never settled. The father was a known skirt-chaser that often spent his time away from the family. Amidst the stormy days the boy took in everything: the shout, the wail, the things that a child should be shielded from. Gradually those negative elements coagulated and hardened the boy's mind; his glistening eyes are now cloaked by a distant, hard gauze. They are still pretty, as I look at the boy now, but long gone is that shy, trusting look.
The boy had trouble getting along with his fellow playmates in school. He has no trouble learning -- actually quite bright, I was told -- but his withdrawn behavior worried the mother tremendously. As a result, to prevent the boy from further retreat inwardly, the mother thought of educating him in the U.S., where a child can receive a more liberal, creative learning. The divorce was finalized before their departure for Los Angeles.
How is the boy to cope with the divorce? How will he react to an entirely foreign environment? How will his little mind be shaped by the equivalent of a seismic shift? These are the questions that ran through my mind as I watched him, diligently sipping orange juice by the mother's side.
The mother is doing most of the talking, and her voice is tinged with a slight helplessness. I sat opposite of her on the plastic booth, with two cups of coffee sitting atop the unvarnished table in the play area of McDonald's. Whenever the conversation comes to an awkward stop, I pretend to sip and linger over the coffee.
"But he seems to take a liking in you, have you noticed?"
I nodded in agreement, while glancing at the boy, playing in his own little world.
"So will you be so kind as to watch over him for a few hours this Saturday? Of course you will be paid, according to the hour. What do you say?" The mother let out an entreating look.
It is not so much the pay or the need for someone to watch over the little boy. It was just something that the mother and I wanted to try.
###
The boy is now about seven. I met the mother few years ago in Taipei, when the boy was just a toddler. He had a most beautiful pair of sparkling brown eyes, and always exuded that precious innocence which can only found on children of that age. Whenever I proffered my arms toward him, he would reciprocate his chubby little arms upward to indicate clearance to hold him. It was precious because no one but the mother had the privilege to do this. Not even the father, who was always away. The child is especially shy in his nature, therefore to see that glistening, trusting look in his pretty eyes while holding him gave me a blissful feeling.
The marriage between the mother and the father was not one to be envied. Despite their good looks, reasonable wealth and good family background, they got off on a rough sailing and the boat never settled. The father was a known skirt-chaser that often spent his time away from the family. Amidst the stormy days the boy took in everything: the shout, the wail, the things that a child should be shielded from. Gradually those negative elements coagulated and hardened the boy's mind; his glistening eyes are now cloaked by a distant, hard gauze. They are still pretty, as I look at the boy now, but long gone is that shy, trusting look.
The boy had trouble getting along with his fellow playmates in school. He has no trouble learning -- actually quite bright, I was told -- but his withdrawn behavior worried the mother tremendously. As a result, to prevent the boy from further retreat inwardly, the mother thought of educating him in the U.S., where a child can receive a more liberal, creative learning. The divorce was finalized before their departure for Los Angeles.
How is the boy to cope with the divorce? How will he react to an entirely foreign environment? How will his little mind be shaped by the equivalent of a seismic shift? These are the questions that ran through my mind as I watched him, diligently sipping orange juice by the mother's side.
posted by Michelin L.W.Y at 1/11/2006 10:32:00 PM
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