My sweetheart and I are eating dinner at a corner table in one of our favorite restaurants in New Jersey. Our entertainment for the evening turns out to be observing The Night Before cocktail party and sit-down dinner at the other end of the room. It’s a perfect set-up for a champion people watcher like me.
The guests glide by us like we are the invisible reception committee. Men, women, some teens, three tots and their accompanying adult couples. This is a gorgeous rainbow of people, a variety of sizes, shapes, and colors. Ditto for hair styles and colors. The dress attire is a fashion show – satin, silks, white jeans with a white silk blouse and an impressive quantity of bling. Floor-length dresses, mini- dresses, one low-cut lilac sheath with long sleeves; a sleeveless ecru jumpsuit with high collar. Bespoke shirts with pants, some shorts, only one or two formal shirts with ties. One family arrives in cut-offs and flip flops, and variety of colorful t-shirts— tanned, smiling, with very white teeth. I imagine they have come straight from Newark Airport after a long week-end in the Bahamas.
The honored couple arrives to much applause about a half-hour into the cocktails.
The greetings commence. Lots of full on huggers, much grasping of shoulders with that let-me-look-at-you smile. Cheek kisses, left and right side of face kisses, air kisses. One formal bow, one hand kiss.
A beautifully groomed couple arrives. She holds a tiny baby and wears a Mona Lisa smile; he looks quite comfortable with the essential baby bag over his shoulder. They establish their territory – her purse, her wide-brimmed hat, baby bag, his hat. They begin to circulate with occasional head nods to each other “it’s your turn to hold the baby,” who actually slept throughout the rising conversation and background music.
But it’s the ambulatory kids who get my attention. I know developmental milestones in young kids. Once they smile, I can tell you how old they are by the teeth. B
aby teeth still there, they could be 3 and 4. Front tooth gaps, probably 6 or 7. Braces as they reach pre-adolescent or teenagers. It’s all endlessly fascinating to me to observe couples, teens, and families enact their routines and rituals in social interactions.
Children have been a recurring subject in my writing. My story about “The Butterfly Girl,” “Katie Ballerina,” and “The Compassion Ambassadors” are tributes to the natural grace, creativity, and honesty of children.
So it’s easy for me to hone in on the two girls (baby teeth on one and front gaps on the other), and a little boy (small baby teeth) who provide most of the action. Little boy was probably two and what might be labeled chubby. One girl was about four. The other already had a confident stance. She would tell you she was 4 ¾. Each in party clothes. He in dark pants, crisp shirt, and a tiny dark red vest. Both girls have gone for frilly. Knee length dresses, hair ribbons, and shiny shoes with bows.
Younger girl and little boy spy each other and are hugging enthusiastically – maybe they’re cousins, until she accidentally knocks him down. They find this funny so they do it again and they both fall down. Now the boy is crying, but little girl pats his shoulder before jumping away with a look that says, “Come on.”
Several minutes later, the duo becomes a trio. This is the 4 ¾ year old girl, taller and exhibiting two tooth gaps (she is precocious and the tooth fairy has been busy at her house). She quickly establishes she is the alpha girl. She is doing a bunny hop move that the other two follow. They hop in and out and among the long dresses, polished shoes, and very high heels. In a possibly choreographed move, they all collapse to the marble floor in a heap. Adults move around them. These are not helicopter parents. They sense all is well. The little ones are sprawled, cooling on the floor. It’s like a toddler half-time. Eventually one of them rolls out of the trio.
Fatigue is setting in. They’ve been carousing for about a half-hour. They’re starting to get tired. I give it 10 minutes to meltdown, but they are hardy children. They are all very handsome, very darling, very cute, and feisty.
Adults come to separate them “Time to sit down for dinner.” Alpha girl climbs up on a chair by herself. Younger girl makes an unsuccessful attempt to climb up next to her. Her failure is deflected by her mother leading her away to a different table.
Separation seems to be the signal. It’s meltdown time. I check my watch. It was 25 minutes. Such stamina! Younger girl starts crying; little boy sees her and gives a fairly loud responsive wail. Little girl is transported to Mom’s lap, then to Dad who was standing next to Mom. Alpha girl smirks at both the other kids and slides to the floor under the table. Little boy is lured away from kid antics by cheese puff appetizers. The younger girl is now asleep, head on Dad’s shoulder.
Alpha child under the table is led out of the room with Mother holding her arm straight up quite firmly so she cannot crash to the floor which would be a perfect attention-getter. I’m not sure, but as they pass us, I think she shrugged her free shoulder at me with a look that conveys, “Hey, I tried.” The party continues.
And sweetheart and I have just about finished our after dessert coffee. What a lovely quiet dinner.
Ethel Lee-Miller blogs regularly about people, the power of words, and her writing life. She retired after 30 years of teaching, and semi-retired from coaching, and professional editing. Founder of the Eastside Tucson Writing Room based in Tucson AZ, she’s posted 100s of blogs, and is the author of Thinking of Miller Place, and Seedlings, Stories of Relationships. These days she writes to inspire, to connect with folks, teaching about the power of words, gather writers together, and for the pure enjoyment of it. Ethel enjoys teaching, speaking, and storytelling at Odyssey Storytelling, Artists Standing Strong Together, Tucson Tellers of Tales Center for Spiritual Living Tucson, her latest endeavor New Story Pod, and anywhere there’s a mic or a Zoom room.