Up and down the stairs of Section D my son walked, touching every knee in an aisle seat along the way. This is how we spent a recent Redhawks game at Newman Outdoor Field in Fargo, me or my husband patiently walking behind Owen, our exploring toddler.
As he climbed, I noticed how the baseball fans reacted to my little boy. Not with annoyance, as I would have expected, but delight.
Grizzly men, gray-haired women and foreign exchange students all brightened and smiled at my towheaded toddler, trying to engage him for that moment he was by their seat.
Of course every parent thinks their child is cute, but there is something about Owen’s cherubic face that draws people to him in a way we didn’t experience with his beautiful big sister, Eve.
My husband once went to the grocery store with only Owen as a companion. He came home claiming he’d found the secret to picking up women. Never had he gotten so much feminine attention.
I jokingly wondered how much we could charge to rent him out to single men.
I’ve noticed it elsewhere, too, the way people stare at Owen. Maybe it’s his wispy blond hair, bright blue eyes and deep dimples. His godmother calls him a Gerber baby. He would be the perfect model for a baby food label.
Or maybe it’s the innocent babyness he projects to the world, despite being almost 2. People sometimes express surprise that he’s walking, thinking he is younger than he is. They also refuse to believe me when I share what a handful he can be.
Regardless, the reaction we got at that weekend ballgame, the same one we receive at stores or parks, reminds me of the 2006 movie “Children of Men.” It depicts a future world where no children have been born in 18 years. When a young woman miraculously delivers a child, battling soldiers stop to stare at the infant she carries.
Because in a world with no babies, there is no hope.
Maybe that’s what my little man exudes. Hope. That is certainly something to delight in.