Is It Still a Felony if You Bring Her Back?

Hulio and I walked up and around to a local cafe that we've driven past a thousand times but never stopped into, lured (in my case, anyway) by the promise of pumpkin pancakes. It was the first really crisp, fall-like weekend and I am a fool for pumpkin, especially once the weather turns. I would eat pumpkin anything. And goat cheese. Pumpkin and goat cheese. And mushrooms. Pumpkin, goat cheese, and mushrooms-- that's the key to my heart stomach.

Anyway, we walked in and got into line, only to discover that we'd arrived just after one of Hulio's collegues-- in fact, the same one who tipped us off to the pumpkin pancakes. The line inched forward and as we came forward toward the dining area, I spied Mad Dog. More importantly, I spied his too-cute-to-be-real daughter, Ro, sitting on his lap.

I walked up, said a perfunctory hello, and demanded the baby. Ohhhhh, is she sweet. Beautiful child, truly beautiful and so deliciously cute. I just wanted to squige her right up and run away. And I don't even want children! But, oh, how I wanted to take Ro home with me, just for a little while, to cuddle and play with her. Sigh.

Mad Dog made me give her back. Bully. Next time, I'll stare off over his shoulder, then start and yell "Wow! Look over there!" and when he falls for the oldest trick in the book, I'll scoop up the baby and run the other way. But no worries, Mad Dog: I'll bring her back in a day or two... maybe.