Sugar, spice and everything nice

It’s a tough crowd here in Havemeyer Park.

Out for a quick pre-yoga class walk Monday night, I heel-toed it past a home in the neighborhood where some gardening was under way. A young mom was weeding under the watchful eye of her “supervisor,” a blond-haired magpie who looked to be about 3 years old.

He was chatting up a storm, asking question after question. I didn’t pay much attention, just flashed a friendly smile and kept going when I heard him ask, “Mom, is that a nice lady?”

I laughed in spite of myself, doubled back and assured him I was, indeed, a nice lady.

(Privately, I thought, “Well, it depends who you ask.”)

Does this lady look nice to you?

I took the laugh with me as I continued around the block.

A few minutes later, we crossed paths again. The little fella was on his scooter, superhero-emblazed helmet firmly affixed atop his head.

I was several yards behind them, but the kid doesn’t miss a trick.

“Is that lady following us?” I heard him ask his mom.

The poor lady looked as though she wished the street would swallow her. By then we were neck and neck, so I assured the tyke I was both nice and NOT a stalker.

We struck up a conversation, Mom explaining that earlier in the day a not-so-pleasant neighbor had sped past the house in her car and so now Junior was taking the personality temperature of everyone they met.

“I guess I’d better watch what I say in front of him,” she said.

We shared a good laugh before the young guy turned his interrogation skills on me. Where did I live? Where was I going? Would I be having dinner at yoga? How long would I be there? Did I want to see how fast he could ride his scooter?

Having proved how nice I am, we left on good terms, me promising that we’d see each other another day, his mom toting him back home for his own dinner … and what would undoubtedly be more questions.