The Peculiar Staring Child

Well, I’m just an ordinary middle-aged Aussie bloke and not much unnerves me these days but it was a funny thing alright, and quite uncomfortable, I can tell you, to be stared at all afternoon by a four-year-old kid. At first I thought it was something to do with me, but then I reckoned it was the child who was a bit simple although, admittedly, there isn’t that much for a small kid to do at a barbecue where everyone else is adult. Our old friends Bob and Sue were baby-sitting their little granddaughter Angelina and brought her along. “The more the merrier!” I had told them but I wasn’t bargaining for being stared at like that.

The kid was sat on the bench directly across the table from me so I couldn’t fail to notice her staring at me. Her big brown eyes were riveted to my face so, naturally, I thought there was some food around my mouth. I wiped the corners of my mouth with a serviette (I have been known to collect a few crumbs there in the past). The little angel still kept staring so I patted my lips with the serviette. She watched me with renewed interest. “Could it be some tomato sauce stuck on my chin, ” I wondered. I put some spit on one corner of the serviette and rubbed at my chin (it’s true that sometimes I’ve looked in the mirror to find dried tomato sauce, looking like evidence of a shaving accident, on my chin); but, no, there wasn’t any sauce and the kid kept staring.

The hours passed. I mingled with all our friends, making sure that the ladies’ glasses were topped up and the beer didn’t run out, but still, every time I turned around that little kid was staring at me. At last, when I couldn’t stick it anymore, I approached her.

“Angelina, shweetheart,” I said, trying to be nice, “why on earth have you been…s… staring at me all this arvo?”

She looked up at me all innocent and said:

“I’m waiting to see you drink like a fish…”