I am sitting at the lake reading a book as the girls swim.
A small boy investigates the ground around where I am sitting. As I watch, he gathers sticks and pine cones and rocks, and he makes a small pile, a hill up which he marches a single tiny plastic cow that he has pulled from his pocket. The cow marches up and down the hill many times at the urging of the small squatting boy, mooing as it goes.
“Mooo. I am up high! I can see everything from here!” and then, “Mooo. I am down flat. I will eat some cow grass and then climb back up to see what I can see,” and then, “Mooo. I am up high and I am jumping!”
The boy notices me watching him, and he marches the cow back down the small hill and tips its nose down into the grass, informing me, “My cow has to eat a lot of grass to make cud.”
“Oh yeah?”
He comes closer to show me the tiny black and white cow, “Her name is Cowbell. She has extra tummies, my daddy says.”
“Very cool.”
“She fits in my pocket,” he shoves Cowbell in his pocket, “See?”
“That’s very handy.”
He pats his pocket, “She closes her eyes so she is not scared in the dark.”
“That’s very smart of her.”
He stands there for a minute, “Whatcha doing?”
I hold up my book, “I was reading a book.”
He leans to inspect the cover and asks hopefully, “Is it about cows?”
“Nope.”
“I have books at home about cows. There are pictures of cows in them.”
“I bet those are good books. When my daughter Kallan was younger, she used to love a book about how we get milk.”
He hops up and down excitedly, “We get milk from cows!”
“I know! This book was all about what happens to milk after the cows give it to us. My daughter used to love that book. I used to have to read it to her every day.”
“Did it have pictures of cows in it?”
“Yes, lots of cows.”
“I like cows.”
“Cows are pretty awesome.”
“They don’t like to swim, though. That’s why I am not swimming. Cowbell needs me to keep her safe. Cows don’t like to swim.”
“It’s good you understand about cows. Cowbell is lucky to have you.”
He nods and puts his hand in his pocket, pulls the tiny cow out again and talks to her, “See, Cowbell? There’s the lake. It’s just water. Swimming is just water. Maybe when you are brave we will swim. Not today. Today is a dry day.” He and the tiny cow stare out at the water, and the boy talks to me, “Is that girl here? The one who likes cows. Is she here?”
I point, “She’s there, with her sister.”
He steps close to follow the line of my pointing finger, and then he sighs in disappointment, “That girl is bigger than me.”
“Yes, she’s going to be 11 in a few days.”
“I am three and a half.”
“Three and a half is a very good age.”
He smiles and then turns to point, “My Anna is over there.”
I turn to look at the blonde girl texting on her phone as she sits atop a green picnic table, “She looks very nice. Is she your sister?”
“No. She watches me.”
“Well, she looks very nice.”
He eyes me, “Anna watches me, but she doesn’t pay attention.”
“I’m sure she pays attention.”
He shakes his head, “Nope.”
“Well, I guess you would know better than I would.”
He stares at me, “Yes. Want to see something?”
“Sure.”
He backs away from me a few steps and then a few steps more, and he says, “Watch.”
I nod my head and wait for what comes next.
He bends down to peer into the grass, and he yells, “Anna, come here!”
The girl does not look up from her cell phone, “No.”
“Come here.”
“No.”
“I found something.”
“Don’t touch it.”
“It’s cool. Come here.”
“No.”
“Come here. Please?”
“No. What did you find?”
“Come here to see.”
“No.”
“But I want to show you.”
The girl has still not looked up from her phone, “What is it?”
“It’s moving.”
“Don’t touch it.”
“Come here and see. It’s moving!”
The girl keeps texting, her voice a monotone, “Don’t touch it.”
“Why not?”
“It will eat your hand.”
The small boy sighs and stands up, takes a few steps, hunches over again, “Can I taste the dirt?”
“No.”
“The dirt tastes like dirt.”
“Uh huh.”
“Can I eat dirt?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It will kill you.”
“No it won’t. Come here.”
“No.”
“I want to show you something.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“What if I need you?”
“You don’t.”
“What if it’s important?”
“It’s not.”
The boy rips up a small handful of grass and walks toward me, zooming the cow through the air in big swoops as he approaches. He holds his hand out and balances the tiny cow in his palm beside the grass, “Cowbell likes grass.”
I reach a single finger to pat the tiny cow’s head, “You and Cowbell make a good team.”
He thinks about this for a minute, “She likes when I pick grass for her. She likes grass.”
We watch together as he tips the tiny cow’s head down into the grass.
He looks at me, “Cowbell does not like Anna very much.”
“Yes, well . . . cows have strong opinions about people. Cowbell is a cow of strong opinions.”
He giggles, “Cowbell likes me. She liked me right away.”
“Cows know who they like. Right away.”
He stands quietly for a minute, “Do you still have that book about cows?”
“I’m not sure. I would have to check.”
Behind him, I see that Anna has gotten up from her picnic bench and is walking toward the park’s exit. Without looking up, she yells, “It’s time to go!”
The boy looks at me, “I have to go.”
“Bye, you. It was lovely to meet you, whoever you are.”
He looks at me in surprise, “I am Matthew!”
“It was lovely to meet you, Matthew. I’m Kris. I enjoyed chatting with you and Cowbell.”
He heads away, calling to his babysitter as he runs to catch up with her, “Anna?”
“Uh huh?”
“I have strong opinions.”
“Uh huh.”
And they are gone.
Mooo.
