The Paparazzi

I think I am going to quit taking Owen to shopping malls.

Usually Owen is racing ahead of me through the halls, so as I trail behind I can clearly hear the gasps and comments of “lo viste?!” (did you see him?) or “mira el morenito!” (look at the little brown boy!) and “que precioooosooo!” (how precious!)

People passing by will reach out and touch his head, ask his name, where he’s from, how old, is that his sister, and so on and so forth ad nauseum.

Eating out in the mall’s food court feels very uncomfortable because of the dozens of pairs of eyes taking in every movement our family makes.

But even so, today was just over the top!

First, a man stopped at our table to touch Owen’s head and ask what his name was and where he was from. He wanted to take Owen’s picture with his cell phone but Owen refused to turn and look or even acknowledge he was speaking to him. Then Owen hid under the table!

The next was a family who stopped by with similar questions. Only this time, the wife knelt down and tried her best to get Owen to give her a kiss – on the lips! (I used to feel bad when he ignored people but was definitely glad he did in this case!)

On their heels came a man with his young daughter. He told us that she was so sad, that she just HAD to have a picture with Owen. He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a photo of the two of them, then of his daughter with Isabel.

He was followed by two ladies, one older and one younger, oohing and aahing over Owen and each asking the other if she had remembered her cell phone so they too could take pictures!

Ugh! Enough was enough, and we packed up our things and left. Now I understand why Owen literally runs through the mall and we have to chase him to keep up – he is trying to get away from his paparazzi!