"My  brother has a sugar problem," the little boy with the burr hair cut and wire-rimmed glasses who just happens to be six years old and attended his first day of first grade this past week at Thomas Jefferson Elementary says. His flat deep Kentucky mountain accent adding to the charm of this little big brother who says his brother's crying is all because he has a sugar problem.

I encountered this outgoing, precocious, delightful, little fellow and his very grouchy 4 year old brother at the beauty salon while waiting to get my hair done.

"I am starving!" the dark haired whinny darling cries from the second stair step leading to quieter places.

I look up and smile and offer my condolences. Saying something purely profound like, 'you want some food.'

"NO! I Hate Food!!"

And while I tried to hold in my explosive laughter, the big brother, Tyler ( he gave me his and his brother's names. Ethan is the problem eater), says the statements that nearly had me rolling on the floor.

"He has a sugar problem. He only eats candy. If you had a quarter (pointing to the candy machine) his crying would stop for about a hour. Mom gave him one before she went to get her hair blond and he stopped crying. Do you have a quarter?"

I told him that it wouldn't be right for me to buy candy for his brother without his mother's permission. He assured me it would be alright but I stuck by guns and reinforced the need for mom's OK.

In the meantime, Ethan, the candy addicted 4 year old continued his moaning and groaning on the steps as people came and went through the doors of the salon. He often was given a glance, a smile, and sometimes a shake of the head and a frown by those who passed him by. I for one was enjoying the entertainment.

Tyler, however, continued conversing with me telling me about his first day of school and his new friend.

"She is nice and has big ears," he offers as a description of his new friend.

I took it that the big ears were certainly an asset for this little girl at least in Tyler's eyes.  As he spoke I formed the opinion that this little boy was certainly not born in Southern Indiana. I have many cousins in Central Kentucky and some in North Carolina. His accent was somewhere in between the two--closer to the Kentucky clan than the North Carolina bunch. I asked him if he lived in Kentucky.

"Naaaaaooo, I leeeahve in Clarksvll. Innnndiaaaaaanah. I was boooorn in Kinteky by my Nanny's house."

I mentioned that I needed to find the rest room and he took it upon himself to go to the desk and ask the receptionist where the bathrooms were. In fact, he was such a gentleman that he escorted me to the restroom, opened the door, went inside, and stood there waiting. I thanked him for his effort and his help but suggested he wait outside the door while I took care of what I needed to do in private. He smiled and closed the door behind him.

When I returned to the waiting room, Ethan was not wailing; no, he was busy sucking on his lollipop and smiling. In fact he was holding one sucker in his mouth and two additional suckers in each hand. Tyler looked up at me and with a grin as big and endearing as his Kaintuckee accent said,

"See, I told you he would stop that crying if he got some candy. I was about to pull my hair out," he added with a look of relief on his adorable little face.

As he walked out the door with his mom, now blond, and his satisfied sticky brother, he looked back at me and said,

"He's gonna git a whippin and the soap when we git home."

There was a glint in his eye and a lift in his step as he trotted out the door behind his mother and his little brother with the sugar problem.

I had the most wonderful time I have ever had in a waiting room in my 55 years of waiting.  I closed my eyes and with a smile on my face said,

thank you Lord for children.

Kathy Lockhart
8/11/07