He wandered into the office because the door was wide open in the lovely weather, with his mommy following him. His hair was red, like hers, and his skin was fair, but his features said he was "mixed-race". Our waiting area has pretty benches and he liked climbing on them and peeking at me. There was no one else in the office, so I chatted a bit with mommy.
And he stood up, all sturdy and confident, and I asked him his name, and he proudly proclaimed, "Eye Oh!" and mommy was very proud of him, because he'd never done that before - said his name at a stranger's request. "Io?" I asked. "Like the moon?"
"Oh, no. We didn't even know about the moon until after we named him. It's Ayo." She spelled it out as he climbed over our benches some more. "It means 'Joy' in Yoriba." And then she said he was two, and, no, they weren't looking for a house because they'd bought one upstate near her family, where he'll have grandparents and great-grandparents, who probably adore him - he radiated joy, you know? And he'd just been weaned in a Yoriba ceremony, since he was two years old.
Very soon afterwards, a handsome man who seemed to be Ayo's father came by and they and some friends went away.
Meanwhile, one of the agents walked in, and was assured that they were not potential customers. And when they left, this agent, who doesn't really understand tact or, well, that personal questions can have pitfalls, asked me "Why I never wanted kids."
You don't ask questions like that because you might not want to know the answer. I told her why, although not at length.
His mommy knelt at the bus stop and let him out of the sling - 17 months old, firm on his feet. He held the heel of a loaf of bread in one hand, to gnaw at it. The other hand he had better uses for - he waved at everyone else at the bus stop. And everyone smiled and waved back, and he was the center of attention, and loved it. But that's allowed at his age, and he was just charming.
Not quite Ayo, but it was a day of cuteness.