"No it's my daughter!"
"I got four," he replies halting his slow jog ... really a fast stumble ... down the beach.
"Four what?" I ask shaking his hand.
"Grandchildren," he beams! "They're great! I can give them back when I'm done with 'em."
"This is my daughter," I repeat.
"She's got a nice tan," he says actually looking at her.
"My oldest grandchild is in Georgia Tech," he continues, "and my second oldest got into UGA a year early in the Honors program. The other two are finishing up Savannah Country Day."
"Well I'm sure NASA will want them before they even have to apply for College," I smile.
"You think?" he asks leaning his sweaty body towards me.
"Oh yeah," I reply rolling my eyes at Che who's blissfully sucking on a slice of Watermelon in a contraption Sarah bought to prevent seeds from being swallowed.
"Your daughter huh?" he says placing his hands on his hips and staring at our six month old.
"Yeah, this is Clare. We call her Che."
"CHE!?"
"Yeah ... Clare Hope Elliott ... C ... H ... E ... Che."
"Oh I thought you meant like Che Guevara," he smirks.
"Exactly," I answer hitting him on the shoulder. "She's named after him."
"You know," he says standing straight obviously ready to move on but looking at the baby, "it won't be long at all before you're pushing your Ol' man around like he is you now."
I stare at him.
Che stops sucking her Watermelon.
He limps away.
Che and I continue our stroll listening to Bogs Scaggs and watching the waves.
My daughter sighs so I stop to kneel in the sand and check on her.
The truth is she was checking on me.
"Hey Che," I say laughing, "as you grow up, you're going to learn that there are times when it really is okay to take a man's testicles and stuff one up each nostril."
Her smile melts my heart as we continue our walk down the Beach.
