Day 191: Car Envy

Today I see a toddler in a battery-powered Mini Cooper.  She appears to be driving - steering herself nonchalantly and at speed into the cafe at Kenwood.  But a second glance reveals that her father has a remote control console.  Daddy's new toy.  One step up from a model boat on a lake. 

In the corner there is a small boy who is awe-struck.  Eyes like saucers, unable to stop staring.  Tiny princess is lifted out and fussed over at a table.  Juice, wipes, toys.  The car stands empty and tantalising.  Small boy edges closer, hypnotised, as parents arrive and ineffectually try to head him off.  No chance.  He is locked onto his target.  Alpha-Dad is expansive and magnanimous and offers a go.  Small boy gets in.  Alpha-Dad wields the controls.  The car moves - transportations of joy.   

This is only going to end one way.  And it does.  After the joy comes terrible cries.  Hands prised off the steering wheel.    Consolation cake hurled across the room. 

Tiny princess looks on serenely, and passively allows herself to be buttoned into her coat and driven out into the sunshine.  The diamond studs in her ears sparkle as she leaves the building.


Inside we are left with the anguished keening of loss.