Chick Magnet

Interesting things happen to us at the movies. I don't know why.

Today we took the boys to see "How to Eat Fried Worms." Cute movie, for those with a strong constitution. I don't normally consider myself the squeamish type, but I have to say that there were several scenes that made me hurk a little bit. My boys, being boys, thought it was the cat's meow.

It's an absolutely gorgeous day here in the South, so the theatre was pretty empty. The auditorium in which our movie was showing was completely deserted. We chose our seats, sat down, and, being firmly of the opinion that movies cannot be properly enjoyed without copious amounts of heavily buttered popcorn, commenced munching.

After we had been seated for about five minutes, a woman with three children entered. With her was a little girl of about 8 years old, who was cute as a bug. She scrutinized the theatre with a discerning eye. She spied Pre-Pubescent One and her pretty little mouth set in a resolute line. Her dimpled chin jutted forward. She had clearly set her cap for him.

She climbed the steps with determination, entered our row, and sat herself down next to him. She looked him right in the eye, introduced herself, and got comfortable. The Mom looked at Huband and me with a questioning grin. Husband shrugged and shook his head good-naturedly in reply. The rest of the family settled in.

So there we were, the only two families in the entire auditorium, cozily enconsed in a single row.

Pre-Pubescent One was obviously discomfitted. He blushed, pulled the bill of his cap down as far as he could without obstructing his vision, and scooched down in his seat until his knobby knees were almost level with his nose.

During the previews, she chattered to him steadily. He, mindful of hurting her feelings, but loathe to encourage her, responded mostly with one word replies and paleolithic grunts. She didn't seem to notice. Periodically, the stream of conversation would stop while she merely stared at him, whereupon he would look to me, pleading with his large hazel eyes.

I could do nothing to help him so I made kissy lips and rocka bye baby motions at him instead.

Clearly, I am evil and should not be allowed to raise children.

As far as I could tell, she pretty much left him alone during the movie. And aftwards, I was too busy gathering up the detritus at our feet to pay attention to the drama of their parting.

Later when I aksed Pre-Pubescent one her name. He blushed. He shrugged.

"She was weird."

Yes, I found the whole thing very amusing. I wonder if I will find it so when some little 7th grade trollop starts calling him all hours of the days and night. It's going to happen. He's the kind of kid that girls are drawn to. Not that he's so remarkably handsome or popular or talented. He is cute, but that's not why girls like him.

You see, he's sensitive. Just like his father.

Women like Husabnd. He's just that kinda guy. He's charming and sweet and attentive without coming across as sleazy and predatory. He makes women feel like they can tell him everything, and they frequently do.

As far as Husband goes, it doesn't really bother me. My Father was and is the same way, and I guess for that reason I understand that it's purely unintentional and completely harmless. Not that a woman has never gotten the wrong idea. It's happened a time or two. But my parents have been married over 40 years, and I know Husband is coming home to me at the end of the day.

Will I be as understanding and accepting when the girls start to flock around my son?

That remains to be seen. But something tells me that being the Mom of a chick magnet is not an easy path to walk and I'm not always entirely objective when it comes to my children and broken hearts.

Adolescent girls beware.