Torchy As A Pa

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER X

  'IKKY-BOY COMES ALONG

  Being a parent grows on you, don't it? Course, at first, when it'ssprung on you so kind of sudden, you hardly know how to act. That is, ifyou're makin' your debut in the part. And I expect for a few monthsthere, after young Richard Hemmingway Ballard came and settled down withVee and me, I put up kind of a ragged amateur performance as a fondfather. All I can say about it now is I hope I didn't look as foolish asI felt.

  As for Vee, she seemed to get her lines and business perfect from thestart. Somehow young mothers do. She knew how to handle the youngsterright off; how to hold him and what to say to him when he screwed up hisface and made remarks to her that meant nothing at all to me. And shewasn't fussed or anything when company came in and caught her at it.Also young Master Richard seemed to be right at home from the veryfirst. Didn't seem surprised or strange or nervous in the presence ofa pair of parents that he found wished on him without much warnin'. Justgazed at us as calm and matter-of-fact as if he'd known us a long time.While me, well it must have been weeks before I got over feelin' kind ofpanicky whenever I was left alone with him.

  But are we acquainted now? I'll say we are. In fact, as Harry Landerused to put it, vurra well acquainted. Chummy, I might say. Why not,after we've stood two years of each other without any serious dispute?Not that I'm claimin' any long-distance record as a model parent. No. Iexpect I do most of the things I shouldn't and only a few of them that Ishould. But 'Ikky-boy ain't a critical youngster. That's his own way ofsayin' his name and mostly we call him that. Course, he answers toothers, too; such as Old Scout, and Snoodlekins, and young Rough-houser.I mean, he does when he ain't too busy with important enterprises; suchas haulin' Buddy, the Airedale pup, around by the ears; or spoonin' inmilk and cereal, with Buddy watchin' hopeful for sideslips; or pullin'out the spool drawer of Vee's work table.

  It's been hinted to us by thoughtful friends who have all the scientificdope on bringin' up children, although most of 'em never had any oftheir own, that this is all wrong. Accordin' to them we ought to startright in makin' him drop whatever he's doin' and come to us the minutewe call. Maybe we should, too. But that ain't the way it works out, forgenerally, we don't want anything special, and he seems so wrapped up inhis private little affairs that it don't seem worth while breakin' inon his program. Course, maulin' Buddy around may seem to us like afrivolous pastime, but how can you tell if it ain't the serious businessin life to 'Ikky-boy just then? Besides, Buddy seems to like it. So as arule we let 'em finish the game.

  But there is one time each day when he's always ready to quit any kindof fun and come toddlin' with his hands stretched out and a wide grin onhis chubby little face. That's along about 6:15 when I blow in fromtown. Then he's right there with the merry greetin' and the friendlymotions. Also his way of addressin' his male parent would give anotherjolt to a lot of people, I suppose.

  "Hi, Torchy!" That's his favorite hail.

  "Reddy yourself, you young freshy," I'm apt to come back at him.

  Followin' which I scooch to meet his flyin' tackle and we roll on therug in a clinch, with Buddy yappin' delighted and mixin' inpromiscuously. Finally we end up on the big davenport in front of thefireplace and indulge in a few minutes of lively chat.

  "Well, 'Ikky-boy, how you and Buddy been behavin' yourselves, eh?" I'llask. "Which has been the worst cut-up today, eh?"

  "Buddy bad dog," he'll say, battin' him over the head with a pink fist."See?" And he'll exhibit a tear in his rompers or a chewed sleeve.

  "Huh! I'll bet it's been fifty-fifty, you young rough-houser," I'llsay. "Who do you like best around this joint, anyway?"

  "Buddy," is always the answer.

  "And next?" I'll demand.

  "Mamma," he'll say.

  "Hey, where do I come in?" I'll ask, shakin' him.

  Then he'll screw up his mouth mischievous and say: "Torchy come in door.Torchy, Torchy!"

  I'll admit Vee ain't so strong for all this. His callin' me Torchy, Imean. She does her best, too, to get him to change it to Daddy. But thatword don't seem to be on 'Ikky-boy's list at all. He picked up theTorchy all by himself and he seems to want to stick to it. I don't mind.Maybe it ain't just the thing for a son and heir to spring on aperfectly good father, chucklin' over it besides, but it sounds quiteall right to me. Don't hurt my sense of dignity a bit.

  And it looks like he'll soon come to be called young Torchy himself.Uh-huh. For a while there Vee was sure his first crop of hair, which waswheat colored like hers, was goin' to be the color scheme of hispermanent thatch. But when the second growth begun to show up red shehad to revise her forecast. Now there's no doubt of his achievin' apink-plus set of wavy locks that'll make a fresh-painted fire hydrantlook faded. They're gettin' brighter and brighter and I expect in timethey'll show the same new copper kettle tints that mine do.

  "I don't care," says Vee "I rather like it."

  "That's the brave talk, Vee!" says I. "It may be all he'll inherit fromme, but it ain't so worse at that. With that hair in evidence therewon't be much danger of his being lost in a crowd. Folks will rememberhim after one good look. Besides, it's always sort of cheerin' on arainy day. He'll be able to brighten up the corner where he is withoutany dope from Billy Sunday. Course, he'll be joshed a lot about it, butthat'll mean he'll either have to be a good scrapper or develop aneasy-grin disposition, so he wins both ways."

  The only really disappointed member of the fam'ly is Vee's Auntie. Lasttime she was out here she notices the change in 'Ikky-boy's curls andsighs over it.

  "I had hoped," says she, "that the little fellow's hair would be--well,of a different shade."

  "Sort of a limousine body-black, eh?" says I. "Funny it ain't, too."

  "But he will be so--so conspicuous," she goes on.

  "There are advantages," says I, "in carryin' your own spotlight withyou. Now take me."

  But Auntie only sniffs and changes the subject.

  She's a grand old girl, though. A little hard to please, I'll admit.I've been at it quite some time, but it's only now and then I can doanything that seems to strike her just right. Mostly she disapproves ofme, and she's the kind that ain't a bit backward about lettin' you know.Her remarks here the other day when she arrives to help celebrate MasterRichard's second birthday will give you an idea.

  You see, she happens to be in the living room when me and 'Ikky-boy hasour reg'lar afternoon reunion. Might be we went at it a little strongerand rougher than usual, on account of the youngster's havin' been heldquiet in her lap for a half hour or so.

  "Hi, hi, ol' Torchy, Torchy!" he shouts, grippin' both hands into myhair gleeful.

  "Burny burn!" says I makin' a hissin' noise.

  "Yah, yah! 'Ikky-boy wanna ride hossy," says he.

  "And me with my trousers just pressed!" says I. "Say, where do you getthat stuff?"

  "I must say," comes in Auntie, "that I don't consider that the properway to talk to a child."

  "Oh, he don't mind," says I.

  "But he is so apt to learn such expressions and use them himself," saysshe.

  "Yes, he picks up a lot," says I. "He's clever that way. Aren't you, youyoung tarrier?"

  "Whe-e-e!" says 'Ikky-boy, slidin' off my knee to make a dive at Buddyand roll him on the floor.

  "One should speak gently to a child," says Auntie, "and use only thebest English."

  "I might be polite to him," says I, "if he'd be polite to me, but thatdon't seem to be his line."

  Auntie shrugs her shoulders and gives us up as hopeless. We're in badwith her, both of us, and I expect if there'd been a lawyer handy she'drevised her will on the spot. Honest, it's lucky the times she's decidedto cross me off as one of her heirs don't show on me anywhere or I'd benotched up like a yardstick, and if I'd done any worryin' over thesespells of hers I'd be an albino from the ears up. But when she startscastin' the cold eye at Richard Hemmingway I almost works up that guiltyfeelin' and wonders if maybe I ain't some to blame.

  "Yo
u ain't overlookin, the fact, are you, Auntie," I suggests, "thathe's about 100 per cent. boy? He's full of pep and jump and go, same asBuddy, and he's just naturally got to let it out."

  "I fail to see," says Auntie, "how teaching him to use slang is at allnecessary. As you know, that is something of which I distinctlydisapprove."

  "Now that you remind me," says I, "seems I have heard you say somethingof the kind before. And take it from me I'm going to make a stab attrainin' him different. Right now. Richard, approach your father."

  'Ikky-boy lets loose of Buddy's collar and stares at me impish.

  "Young man," says I severe, "I want you to lay off that slang stuff.Ditch it. It ain't lady like or refined. And in future when you conversewith your parents see that you do it respectful and proper. Get me?"

  At which 'Ikky-boy looks bored. "Whee!" he remarks boisterous, makin' agrab for Buddy's stubby tail and missin' it.

  "Perfectly absurd!" snorts Auntie, retirin' haughty to the bay window.

  "Disqualified!" says I, under my breath. "Might as well go the limit,Snoodlekins. We'll have to grow up in our own crude way."

  That was the state of affairs when this Mrs. Proctor Butt comes crashin'in on the scene of our strained domestic relations. Trust her to appearat just the wrong time. Mrs. Buttinski I call her, and she lives up tothe name.

  She's a dumpy built blond party, Mrs. Proctor Butt, with projectin'front teeth, bulgy blue eyes and a hurried, trottin' walk like a duckmakin' for a pond. Her chief aim in life seems to be to be better postedon your affairs than you are yourself, and, of course, that keeps herreasonably busy. Also she's a lady gusher from Gushville. Now, I don'tobject to havin' a conversational gum drop tossed at me once in a while,sort of offhand and casual. But that ain't Mrs. Buttinski's method. Shefeeds you raw molasses with a mixin' spoon. Just smears you with it.

  "Isn't it perfectly wonderful," says she, waddlin' in fussy, "that yourdear darling little son should be two years old? Do you know, Mrs.Robert Ellins just told me of what an important day it was in the livesof you two charming young people, so I came right over to congratulateyou. And here I discover you all together in your beautiful little home,proud father and all. How fortunate!"

  As she's beamin' straight at me I has to give her some comeback. "Yes,you're lucky, all right," says I. "Another minute and you wouldn't foundme here, for I was just----"

  Which is where I gets a frown and a back-up signal from Vee. She don'tlike Mrs. Proctor Butt a bit more'n I do but she ain't so frank aboutlettin' her know it.

  "Oh, please don't run away," begs Mrs. Butt. "You make such an idealyoung couple. As I tell Mr. Butt, I just can't keep my eyes off you twowhenever I see you out together."

  "I'm sure that's nice of you to say so," says Vee, blushin'.

  "Oh, every one thinks the same of you, my dear," says the lady. "Only Isimply can't keep such things to myself. I have such an impulsivenature. And I adore young people and children, positively adore them.And now where is the darling little baby that I haven't seen for monthsand months? You'll forgive my running in at this unseasonable hour, Iknow, but I just couldn't wait another day to--oh, there he is, thedarling cherub! And isn't that a picture for an artist?"

  He'd have to be some rapid-fire paint slinger if he was to use 'Ikky-boyas a model just then for him and Buddy was havin' a free-for-all mix-upbehind the davenport that nothing short of a movie camera would havedone justice to.

  "Oh, you darling little fellow!" she gurgles on. "I must hold you in myarms just a moment. Please, mother mayn't I?"

  "I--I'm afraid you would find him rather a lively armful just now,"warns Vee. "You see, when he gets to playing with Buddy he's apt to----"

  "Oh, I sha'n't mind a bit," says Mrs. Butt. "Besides, the little dearsalways seem to take to me. Do let me have him for a moment?"

  "You get him, Torchy," says Vee.

  So after more or less maneuverin' I untangles the two, shuts Buddy inanother room, and deposits 'Ikky-boy, still kickin' and strugglin'indignant, in whatever lap Mrs. Butt has to offer.

  Then she proceeds to rave over him. It's enough to make you seasick.Positively. "Oh, what exquisite silky curls of spun gold!" she gushes."And such heavenly big blue eyes with the long lashes, and his 'ittlerosebud mousie. O-o-o-o-o!"

  From that on all she spouts is baby talk, while she mauls and paws himaround like he was a sack of meal. I couldn't help glancin' at Auntie,for that's one thing she and Vee have agreed on, that strangers wasn'tto be allowed to take any such liberties with baby. Besides, Auntienever did have any use for this Mrs. Butt anyway and hardly speaks toher civil when she meets her. Now Auntie is squirmin' in her chair and Ican guess how her fingers are itchin' to rescue the youngster.

  "Um precious 'ittle sweetums, ain't oo?" gurgles Mrs. Butt, rootin' himin the stomach with her nose. "Won't um let me tiss um's tweet 'ittlepinky winky toes?"

  She's just tryin' to haul off one of his shoes when 'Ikky-boy cuts loosewith the rough motions, fists and feet both in action, until she has tostraighten up to save her hat and her hair.

  "Dess one 'ittle toe-tiss?" she begs.

  "Say," demands 'Ikky-boy, pushin' her face away fretful, "where oo get'at stuff?"

  "Wha-a-at?" gasps Mrs. Butt.

  "Lay off 'at, tant you?" says he "Oo--oo give 'Ikky-boy a big pain, Oodoes. G'way!"

  "Why, how rude!" says Mrs. Butt, gazin' around bewildered; and then, asshe spots that approvin' smile on Auntie's face, she turns red in theears.

  Say, I don't know when I've seen the old girl look so tickled overanything. What she's worked up is almost a grin. And there's no doubtthat Mrs. Butt knows why it's there.

  "Of course," says she, "if you approve of such language----" and handin'the youngster over to Vee she straightens her lid and makes a quickexit.

  "Bing!" says I. "I guess we got a slap on the wrist that time."

  "I don't care a bit," says Vee, holdin' her chin well up. "She had nobusiness mauling baby in that fashion."

  "I ain't worryin' if she never comes back," says I, "only I'd justpromised Auntie to train 'Ikky-boy to talk different and----"

  "Under similar provocation," says Auntie, "I might use the sameexpressions--if I knew how."

  "Hip, hip, for Auntie!" I sings out. "And as for your not knowin' how,that's easy fixed. 'Ikky-boy and I will give you lessons."

  And say, after he'd finished his play and was about ready to be tuckedinto his crib, what does the young jollier do but climb up in Auntie'slap and cuddle down folksy, all on his own motion.

  "Do you like your old Auntie, Richard?" she asks, smoothin' his redcurls gentle.

  "Uh-huh," says 'Ikky-boy, blinkin' up at her mushy. "Oo's a swellAuntie."

  Are we back in the will again? I'll guess we are.