starting young

They're really starting young, these days.

I just asked two little 4-year-olds to be quiet. They were screaming and yelling, bouncing up and down the storyroom arena seating. (Those seats are like sounding boards -- when you jump on them, they make tremendous, thundering booms.)

My boss, Kimberly, walked out of her office, hands clutching her headache-ridden head. (Poor thing needs to invest in some Ibuprofin stocks, so at least she'll get some return on her investments....)

Anyway, the two rambunctious tykes are giggling up a storm, flailing about in seizures of laughter, when I walk up.

Immediately, they stop.

I ask, "How's it going, guys?"

They're fine, they reply, and their mothers tense up, visibly. "Sorry about the racket," one offers lamely. I explain that they need to keep it down a little, because people are trying to study nearby.

They comply. I offer to help them find some good books, but they've already accomplished that. One of the little boys tugs at my hand and asks, "Can I have his phone number, please?"

I am stunned.

I never asked for other boys' phone numbers until I was 18 years old. And this guy was only 4!

What confidence! What bravado!

Why couldn't I have been more like him at that age?