Mating dance

I've never seen anything like it: the mating dance of a nearly three-year-old in an old-fashioned ice cream parlor. The object of his affection? An adorable 3- to 4-year old little girl with a pretty bow in her hair.

We were already seated, enjoying our creamy servings of Velvet Ice Cream when Noah noticed the family who walked in had within its numbers a Juliet of his generation. David and I then observed the most elaborate mannerisms to ever eek out of Noah. From his bench seat, he popped up, and down, and up, and down. He growled, he yelled, he smiled, he ducked. He whispered his name at our prompting, and he peeked around the corner of the bench to see if she had seen him yet. At one point, he went feverish with energy, frantically tickling his face and making loud (annoying) noises... anything to draw her attention his way.

It reminded me a little bit of this:

But when it was all said and done, he missed his big opportunity as she walked with her family outside to enjoy her icy treat on the patio. Noah almost got up the gusto to walk to the parlor door and knock on it to get her attention, but he stopped just short with shyness.

On the way home, I asked Noah, "Was that little girl pretty?"

Noah: Uh-huh

Me: Did she smile at you?

Noah: I think she did.

I'd say we have a lady killer in the making, but I think we've got to work on his delivery a little.