September 26, 2005

Babe Magnet

We were in our apartment building’s elevator on the way to the basement to get our car, with my husband carrying our baby boy in his arms. When we hit the fourth floor, the doors opened and in stepped this beautiful sexy thing with a creamy white complexion, huge hazel eyes and light brown hair. I immediately recognized her as an up and coming commercial model and TV host.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my husband quickly shift the position of our son so that instead of facing his father, he was directly facing the pretty girl (which is precisely what she was, a girl who had probably just graduated from puberty). Of course, with our tiny tot’s head now almost touching hers, Little Miss Lovely could not help but look back at him. “Oh my gosh! What a cuuuuuuute cute cutie!” She cooed like a parakeet, almost beside herself with joy. And my spouse, who is normally reticent and even quite standoffish around strangers, instantaneously morphed into Mr. Congeniality. “Thank you!” he proudly replied, as if she was referring to him instead of our child. And then boldly continued, “His name is Niccolo. He just turned six months old.” Before he could volunteer additional vital information like his birthday, weight, height and our phone number, we finally reached the ground floor. The blossoming starlet had no choice but to make her graceful exit, but not before she stroked our baby’s cheek, threw a small smile Daddy’s way and said bye-bye to everyone.

By the time we got to our car, the hugest, silliest grin was plastered on my husband’s face. He was undoubtedly thrilled. I, on the other hand, had to fight the urge to wring his neck. I could not believe it. He had just used our innocent son as a chick magnet. Hmmmmmph!

The next day, I visited the Starbucks nearest us with my baby in tow. I wanted to savor my Mocha Frap so I pulled a chair and propped my toddler on my lap. Suddenly, the entrance door opened and in walked a stunningly handsome man. He was a tall, lean thirty-something, obviously foreign and dressed sleekly in Brooks Brothers-like clothes. He had the air of someone important and appeared oblivious to everyone around him. Goodness, he was really hot. He placed his order, got his coffee and then, as if in a dream, he began moving towards me. I felt my heart beating wildly as he came closer and closer. When he was right in front of me, I froze. His eyes were a perfect blue. He slowly bent down and for one insane moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, his hand reached out to ruffle my baby’s hair and he spoke softly to him, “Hi there! You’re really cute.” I was flabbergasted. I hastily exclaimed, “Thank you!” as if he was referring to me. And then like a blustering idiot, I went on, “His name is Niccolo. He just turned six months old.” Before I could say anything else, the finely chiseled god stood up, smiled dazzlingly at me, ruffled my son’s hair again, and left the store.

On the way back home, I realized that I hadn’t stopped smiling. I was so thrilled. My son was a dude magnet. Yipee!!!


carmela said...

hehehe.....who can resist that adorable thing...haha....can i borrow my god son when i get home...hahaha....i miss him and you guys alot! school starts today, wish me luck! email you soon! anyhoo.....GO NICCOLO!!!!

Jennifer said...

So it's set. If you ever start up that dating business we've been talking about, Niccolo can be Plan D (aka the Last Resort). If you find yourself with a client who just isn't capable of meeting new people, you can just have him/her hang out with our little babe magnet Niccolo for an afternoon. Hmmmmm, which has gotten me thinking--maybe I can test this plan out and borrow Niccolo next Saturday? Whatcha think? Oh but of course, considering my somewhat limited experience with children, I'll borrow his yaya too, hehehehehe ;-)

Narcoleptic Aquarian said...

You are so so sweet. You don't know how relieved I am that there is a photographer in the building. An equally relieved to know there is an Irene like you as well. I'm sorry if I was not my chatty self. I don't feel too comfy when there's lots of people. I feel that people really listen to what I've got to say so I've learned not to say much, or rather choose what I say to whom.
I guess you can blame that on being burned in this industry many times.
I will haul my skinny ass to 903 if I ever want company. I'll take you up on that one of these days.