Rowan, Tom and I ate at Cracker Barrel this evening before a quick shopping trip to our local outlet mall. Rowan needed a diaper change, so as we were leaving I took him into the ladies' room hoping they'd have a good changing spot. They did, and as we were getting settled (meaning I was wiping everything in sight with one of those Lysol disinfecting wipes) a lady walked in and said, "Oh, there's that cute baby I saw from a distance." She walked over, a petite woman about 40 years old with dark blonde hair and bright eyes rimmed in thick eyelashes. She spoke to Rowan who was over my shoulder and said, "Can you give me a smile? My baby is 13 years old and he's so seroius nowadays." Rowan was sleepy and full from the bottle he had just finished, so I didn't expect much in the way of social interaction from him. But he made a coo, cracked a grin, and within seconds his mouth was wide open in a laugh! This laugh wasn't a giggle, it wasn't a chuckle -- it was a full-blown, gasping for air after the squeals, LAUGH. I have no earthly idea what my child found so funny about this woman named Donna, but she says it is simply because babies can tell when a person is truly delighted to see them. And Donna was truly delighted to talk with Rowan.
In a twirly whirly mess of relationships, it can sometimes seem difficult to know when people are sincere. We're surrounded by patronization, manipulation, and over-analysis. In contrast, I marvel at the purity of Rowan's interactions. He smiles because there is joy in his heart; he smiles because he is the object of love. This smile, this unadulterated and pure and uncontrollable smile, comes from a fleeting source: he can smile like this because he is a child.