“Frog!” Caitlin’s laugh burst out. “Why do you want to name her Frog?”
He looked up at his aunt and gave her a what-else-would-I-name-her face. “Because she looks like a tadpole.”
Everyone at the table began laughing. Without looking up, Saul continued coloring.
Christina grinned at him. “We showed the boys pictures on the Internet of where she is developmentally. She really does look like a tadpole. She even has…” She glared at Ricky. “Look at you! You’ve even got me calling the baby a she!”
“That’s okay. I’m right. She is a she.”
Mom grabbed one of the crayons that rolled away and slid it back toward Saul. “Do you have any names picked out?”
“We haven’t gotten that far. I wasn’t aware we only needed to think of girl names.” Christina gave her husband yet another glare. I began to feel sorry for the guy.
One of the servers rushed over, looking frazzled. “Ricky, we need you, if you have a minute.”
Annoyed, Ricky glared at the server. “Actually, we are kinda in the middle of things right now. What’s going on?”
The waiter looked down at the floor as he replied. “It’s Anthony. He’s—”
Ricky held up a hand. “Don’t even finish that sentence. Where is he?”
The boy motioned behind him. “He’s in the back, in the kitchen. There was a disagreement about the shredded—”
“Dammit. I’m gonna have to fire that asshole.” Ricky pushed back his chair and stood before the server could finish. “On my way.”
When he had disappeared into the kitchen, Dad looked over at Christina. “What was that about? Who’s Anthony?”
Christina sighed. “Oh, we hired him a week or so ago—to replace Charley when he moved back to the Midwest to be with his wife’s family. This new guy came very highly recommended.”
“Not working out?”
“No. I think his recommendations came so they could get rid of him without any drama.”
Mom smiled sadly. “Well, nobody is going to be able to replace Charley.”
Christina nodded. “I know, Mom. We don’t expect him to, but it’s like we hired Castro or something, the way he treats the other employees. I’m not sure what we’re gonna do. Ricky doesn’t want to have to fire him, then have to pay his unemployment, but it’s starting to look like that is the best of our options.”
Another crayon began to roll away, and Saul reached out and snagged it before it could fall off the table. In so doing, he hit a glass with his elbow and spilled his juice.
Caitlin instantly swept him out of the way so he wouldn’t get his pants wet and stretched her hand over the spill.
“No! Wait!” Christina shot her hand out in a stop motion. With a half turn, she waved her hand in a quick flicking movement toward the restaurant at her back. A slight haze arose between our table and the people around us. A blur spell. No one else would notice it, but if they tried to zero in on what was happening at our table, they wouldn’t be able to. It would feel like their eyes were getting watery and they would not be able to see anything in our direction. “We’ve been working on this kind of thing at home.”
Saul looked over at his mom, big tears threatening to fall down his face. “I sorry, Mommy!”
“It’s okay, baby. Accidents happen. It’s not a big deal.” She left her seat and slid over beside Caitlin in the booth. She patted his cheek and then leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Do you remember that spell we’ve been working on at home?”
Saul nodded, his eyes suddenly wide with excitement.
“Try it, sweetheart.” Christina picked up the glass and held it under the edge of the table, close to him.
Saul’s little voice trembled, but I could make out his soft murmurs as he started the spell. He misspoke a few words, and Christina had to repeat them slowly so he could get the right enunciation. After two more tries, he got the words out perfectly.
The liquid that had spread over the table began to gather underneath Saul’s little hand. The pool grew until all the juice had been pulled back in, as if by a magnet.
Christina leaned closer and whispered encouragingly, “Okay. Now, baby.”
Fingers trembling slightly, Saul moved his hand slowly over the puddle and stopped over the glass his mom held under the table’s edge. The juice followed the path that his hand made, forming a little stream that flowed effortlessly from the little pool and poured off the edge in a tiny waterfall into the glass.
