In Which I Resist the Urge to Kidnap

This afternoon there was a young man playing traditional Irish fiddle tunes by the Millennium Bridge. He was doing such a beautiful job and it was such a pleasure to hear, so I dropped a couple quid into his case as I walked by and said, "It's beautiful music, thank you!" As I passed he began to play "The Butterfly." Now, there is of course no way he could have known that it's one of my favorites, but I let myself think it for a split second...

While waiting for the Clipper I chatted with an unbearably cute little boy and his grandmother, who were sitting beside me on the bench with his baby sister. "She is zero-and-a-half already," he proudly declared to me. Then, "These boats are the FASTEST on the river!" His eyes grew enormous as the #11 boat approached, as a higher-numbered boat MUST obviously be even faster than the #4 he'd ridden earlier.

Sometimes I miss being four, when every half-year and quarter-year and eighth-year mattered, and little commuter boats could garner uncontainable excitement. ...But ponderings aside, the main point of this post is to announce, dear reader, that I successfully resisted the urge to steal an adorable British child. Whew.


carrie said…
did he have a british accent? I bet he had the best british accent. also, I miss you. a lot. how am I going to survive a whole 6 months of this?

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