William

William is not quite two. He comes to the Library almost every day with his Mom and sits in the chair next to her while she checks her email and Facebook and does a bit of web surfing. He is a cherub with limited patience.



For the first ten minutes or so, he happily munches on the snacks Mom brings. I watch him stick a round cookie in his mouth and draw it in and out while he makes faces. Then he hops down from the chair and wanders just out of Mom's reach. She plops him back in the chair. He throws a cookie on the floor, and Mom sighs, retrieves the cookie and chucks it in the trash. He squeals loudly and she hushes him.



I can't imagine she is getting anything done. These little games continue. William hands Mom a gooey half chewed cookie. She takes his offering, placing it back in the container and wiping her hands on her jeans. William begins to push the chair (which is on wheels) around the table, bumping into corners and walls. Mom reseats him and pulls him up to the computer where she is working. He sits for about a half minute, them begins fuddling with the mouse.



Mom slaps his hand, telling him to behave. He swings his feet and pouts. Soon he is down again and off chasing a student who happened to wander past. Mom runs after him. He lies down on the floor, kicking his feet and making a racket. She shushes him, gathers him in her arms and heads back to her seat. Absorbed in her Facebook, she doesn't realize that William has wandered off, clear down to the cafe where he is making eyes at the girls seated in the first booth.



Mom jumps up with a start, panicked. They reconnect. Soon William is attempting climbing the stairs. Mom to the rescue once again. An hour later, Mom gives up, scoops William, cookies and carry bag into her arms and heads for the door. William grins over her shoulder and waves a brassy good bye to anyone who is looking. Good-bye, William. I am sure we will see you tomorrow!