Chirky

Saturday morning I tagged along with Deb and Nanni to take Chase to the movies. The theater was full of children, who each had hair that looked as though it had been combed with an egg beater. And lots of mommies. And a few daddies who had somehow gotten suckered into seeing Curious George.

Amazingly, the kiddos were relatively quiet throughout the movie. And by relatively quiet, I mean that the combined volume of a) children talking to themselves, or to their parents, or to their imaginary friends named Hannah and Trevor, and including those who b) shrieked when a monkey the size of their house was running around only thirty feet in front of them, that volume did not exceed the blaring sound coming from the speakers.

After the movie, we watched dozens of sleepy-eyed children scramble out of the theater and begin to run full-throttle around the theater lobby. In circles.

I watched them only for a moment, because when you see a face like this, how is it not possible for heart to leap within your chest cavity and for your insides not to explode like fireworks during Chinese New Year?