“How old are you?”
This was the terse question a godchild of mine asked an unknown lady in the market some weeks back.
To know the story that led to the embarrassing query, I have to detail the events before it happened.
I had to load my prepaid account but the store that I used to go to had some problems with their operations. I was forced to travel to the municipal center to accomplish the task.
Before I could ride the jeepney, my ten-year old godchild approached me. He had just taken a bath, had a change of clothes and nothing to do. I knew his strategy. It works every time.
Well, I like the company, especially a smart kid, because believe it or not, he often attracts the attention of the opposite sex. There were times people mistook him as my own. 🙂
I took him to his favorite places in town. He ate ice cream, played an hour of video games and admired the developments going on. If I were alone, the task would have taken me half an hour, including the ride, to finish. With him, we had almost three hours of childish fun.
We were nearing the public transport terminal when the child noticed a woman in a bright dress. She was not the approachable type though she did not exhibit the snobbish demeanor either.
Like the youth of today, my godchild used to tease me because I am single. He had this illusion of meeting his future godmother to be. He was presented the chance this time.
The woman smiled at him so he smiled back.
“You’re so cute,” she commented while pinching his right cheek lightly.
I did not say a word because I was uncomfortable for what the boy planned to do. The shorter the meeting the better for me.
“How old are you?” she asked, trying to prolong the event.
“Ten,” he replied curtly.
I was signalling him that we should be moving. The woman was being pulled by the boy’s charm.
Then, he dropped the bombshell.
“How old are you?”
I tried to cover his mouth but it was too late. The woman’s face had reddened due to the impertinent question.
I wanted to apologize but she simply turned around as if we never had met. I could still see her anger from the way she walked out on us.
The boy was dumbfounded. He was probably asking himself what did he do to receive such treatment.
“You asked her age. That’s why.” I explained after seeing his puzzled look.
“She asked mine. I did not leave.”
How could I explain it? I did not want to discuss adult behavior with him because of the countless whys that would follow.
“Never mind,” I said. “Did you actually believe she will be a good godmother to you?”
“No way!” he unequivocally exclaimed.
See! Explanation was not needed. Thank God.