I may never talk to another small child

I like children, especially small ones. My husband calls them OPC, for Other People's Children. I like to talk with them, flirt with them, play with them. Babies are wonderful. I am, of course, very aware of today's climate, and only connect when a parent is present and when it seems most likely that the overture will be acceptable. I don't give advice, and if I can't pay a compliment I make no comment at all.

Late Sunday afternoon my husband and I took our youngest son to the airport. He is spending this week in Northern Israel volunteering to help pick the harvest, and repair damages caused by the recent rocket attacks.

As we were waiting in the check-in line I noticed two adorable little girls, both wearing pink poufed dresses. They had ice blonde hair and looked about 3 and 5. I made a comment to the parents and the mom smiled. We saw the girls and their parents again when we got to the security line. By then our son was close to the scanner, and we were standing outside the barriers. The two little girls were standing right in front of us swinging on the ropes, and smiling up at us. I smiled back. Then the older one opened her mouth, and all my illusions shattered around me.

"Do you have a grandchild?"

I don't want to think that I look old enough to have a grandchild, even to a child young enough to be my grandchild!