Momma's Boy

She looked thin, pretty, and happy, as she always did. She held the plump little boy in her arms. He held his arms out to me and she passed him to me, a grin spreading across my face. Her face looked surprised, and her voice and words proved it, “He must really like you,” She said, “He’s usually a momma’s boy.”
I smiled down at him. He smiled back. I was thrilled.
We sat down in the lightly cushioned chairs. I tickled him and he giggled and wiggled. Eventually she took her young son back. She held him up, their faces level, talking to him. He reached out and gripped her bottom lip, pulling it. “Ow!” She wined, leaning back, glaring at him.
He laughed.