Even at the age of fifteen months, the blue-eyed towhead was a
charmer. He had walked at nine months, and now he was heavily
involved in exploring the uncharted world underneath things.
No chair or table or bed could keep its intimate nether secrets
for long. He had seen and felt and sometimes tasted nearly
every dust ball, spider web, lacquer drip, wooden sliver, and
fossilized wad of chewing gum under every piece of furniture in
the house.
Following his low excursions, he would emerge red-faced and
report his sightings to the authorities in his brightest and most
sincere gibberish. The authorities were invariably kind,
patient, and uncomprehending.
"Watsa," he would remark, and his mother would smile for no
good reason and reply in non-sequiturs. "Watsa to you too,
little sweetums," she might say, and no matter how many times he
repeated his report, she seemed unable to grasp the concept.
His father was no better; he usually confused the issue further
by saying, "You tell 'em, Tiger," and looking wistfully at the
tiny baseball glove that hung from the back of the high chair.
However, the small explorer was not dismayed; he knew his duty,
and he returned to it every day.
But one afternoon, things seemed to improve. He was
explaining three dusty Band-Aids to his mother.
"Dahwab," he said, quite clearly, and his mother replied:
"That's right, Pookums. Dahwab."
So she knew about the Band-Aids! This was a breakthrough
in his campaign to train them in communication, and he felt quite
gratified.
"Dahwab," he repeated, to ensure there was no misunderstanding.
Shortly thereafter, as he lay supposedly asleep watching the
reddish light that moved and faded across the ceiling nearly every
night, he saw something interesting through the window. It
was new to him, as were many of the things he saw. It was
large and bright, and he found that, just as his name was Brendan,
it too had a name. He fell asleep thinking about it.
***
At breakfast the next morning, he sat up straight in his high
chair and described his finding. With his arm raised and his
index finger pointed straight up, he announced: "Yowgroob."
Both his parents looked at him but remained silent, so he
repeated it: "Yowgroob." It could not have been clearer.
To his delight, both of them broke out laughing, showing that
they found it as funny as he did. He smiled proudly and
repeated the word several times, because they seemed to enjoy the
sound of it, and so did he. Of course, he continued to hold
his finger in its upward position each time he spoke, so as not to
mislead.
***
That night, as he lay restlessly in his crib waiting for them
to come and take him back out, he saw the same thing again.
He watched it, fascinated, then reached out toward it. But
it went away. This was the most interesting thing he had
found, even better than the stiff mouse in the pantry.
"Yowgroob," he said softly, then repeated it continually until
suddenly the sunlight was pouring through the window and they came
to take him out.
***
At breakfast, his father was unusually talkative, chattering on
happily about something. Of course his father had trouble
making himself understood, but he would get better; already he was
learning to say more and more intelligible words. The boy
waited politely until his father paused to take a breath, then
shared his news.
He sat up in his chair, pointed his index finger straight
overhead, and spoke: "Yowgroob."
Again, his parents' responses were excellent. Their white
teeth shone forth, big and crooked, and they laughed heartily.
He was gratified to know they understood that it had come twice.
He repeated the entire message, just to hear them laugh.
***
That afternoon, after a pleasant day in which his father
continued to exhibit an unusually festive mood, the authorities
took Brendon for an automobile ride. To add to the
excitement, they stopped and entered a strange, noisy place full
of interesting strangers, and he sat in an odd high chair that had
no pictures on it. Big people were sitting at tables
everywhere, and other people were bringing them food as if they
were children. He could hardly tell in which direction to
swivel his head to see all the interesting people.
His father and mother were doing amazing things. They
talked loudly and laughed at each other. They raised their
glasses and touched them together. Brendon was extremely
glad to see how happy they were.
But then a peculiar thing happened. As they were
beginning to sing a little song, they both suddenly stopped, right
in the middle of a word, and held very still. Their eyes got
bigger, and they made no sound at all. Brendon felt a little
frightened at the change in their faces.
Then he heard something, a sound coming from where his parents
were staring. He peered around the back of his high chair.
At first it was hard to pick him out of all those people, but
then he saw the boy. He was in another of those strange,
pictureless high chairs. He was sitting straight up with his
finger pointed toward the ceiling, and he was speaking in a high,
resonant voice.
"Yowgroob," he was saying over and over. "Yowgroob."
