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Neal is six months old when his dad comes home one day, overjoyed, picking him out of his highchair and kissing his face all over. Apparently he doesn’t even mind that said face is covered with baby food. “Oh Neal, Neal, Neal” he hears his dad say between smooches. His mom is looking at Daddy confused, spoon suspended mid-air. “What’s going on?”, she asks, only to be swept up and hugged by Neal’s dad with so much momentum that he picks her off the floor and twirls her a little.
Some of Neal’s food is sent flying off the spoon Mommy is still holding, but pureed banana isn’t his favorite anyway, so he doesn’t really mind.
“He’s alive! He’s alive, that little trickster,” his dad is laughing and kissing his mom, who looks incredulous. “Are you – are you serious? Oh my god!”, she lets out a happy shriek and falls back into his daddy’s arms.
All this excitement is keenly observed by little Neal. He likes to see mommy and daddy smile, so he can give them two minutes until he’ll scream for more food.
But only two minutes.
******
Neal is two years old and his dad is playing with building blocks with him. Quite contentedly Neal stacks them up and smashes them again. Stack and smash, stack and smash. Daddy is smiling at him with that fond look, the look he gives him and his mommy, and he too seems content just watching.
The phone in daddy’s pocket rings, which – Neal has learned this – means that mom or dad need to talk to someone who is elsewhere.
“Burke?”, his dad asks into the phone.
“Neal!” – Neal looks up at Daddy. He isn’t looking at him though, just off into the distance. But he has that same fond look on his face that is reserved for Mommy and Neal. Little Neal ignores his building blocks for now and regards his dad, a bit puzzled.
Whoever Daddy is talking to must be just as special as he and Mommy are.
******
It is Neal’s sixth birthday and he’s blowing out the candles on his cake. He is beaming with joy and so are his parents, who are standing on both his sides. His mom hands him a present to unwrap – it’s the crayons he asked for! When Daddy and he passed that art store last week after returning from the park, and he stopped and stared into the window laden with colors, brushes and pencils, Daddy chuckled and mumbled “Why am I not surprised”, which Neal didn’t understand but he let it go. Sometimes his parents – well, adults in general – said weird things that didn’t make a lot of sense. He was determined though to learn it all, in time. When he was big – you know, maybe eight years old – he would surely understand just as much about the world as Mommy and Daddy did.
Neal is reaching for another present as the door bell rings. His parents look at each other, hesitant but hopeful. Mommy gives him a kiss on the head and tells him that they’ll be right back. He watches them curiously as they rush to the door holding hands and stop short right in front of it. Daddy squeezes Mommy’s hand, and with the other he opens the door. Neal can’t see the man standing in the doorway behind his parents very well, but he’s wearing a light grey suit and a hat and he’s smiling at his parents.
“Hello Peter. Bonjour Elizabeth, comme t’es belle!” (What that last part means, Neal doesn’t know.)
They practically jump into his arms, hugging him tightly and one kissing his left, the other his right cheek. Neal thinks he can see tears in the corner of his mom’s eye. She once explained “tears of joy” to him though so he isn’t worried. That must be a really special birthday guest if they are so excited to see him – so much so that they’re even forgetting about Neal for a moment! (If only the cake were already cut, he could start nibbling.) They are elated and chattering to the man, and repeatedly hugging one another.
Huddled closely together with the stranger, his parents usher the man in, still looking at him like the biggest marvel. The guest with the wavy brown hair and the nice smile raises his hands in a calming gesture. “Guys, enough about me now. Introduce me to the special birthday boy.”
Neal decides he likes the man already.
(Like father and mother, like son.)