The Picnic
by Linda Schwartz

It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing.

"Let's go on a picnic," Laura suggested to her husband. Caine was busy chasing Peter in the living room. He had been trying to dress his young son but Peter had other ideas. He darted out of the room, his diaper barely covering his small bottom. Caine had discovered that his son could not stay still for very long. He finally cornered him against the couch.

"Got you!" He picked Peter up into his arms. Peter was trying to squirm out of his arms again, but his father held him against his body and began tickling him.

He heeeee SQUEALLLLLL, Peter laughed loudly.

"I see you have your son under control," Laura joined the laughter.

"Yes," he was giggling along with his son and wife. "I would like to go on a picnic." He took Peter back to his bedroom and finished dressing him.

"I'll go fix up a basket." Laura went into the kitchen to prepare the food.

There was a park about a mile from their home. This was the first time they had visited since Peter had learned to walk.

Laura picked out a place under an oak tree. Caine laid a blanket for them to sit on. Peter was getting restless sitting in his stroller. He wanted to get out and explore.

"Put the basket down there, Kwai. " She indicated a place at the edge of the blanket. She set everything up, then went over to let Peter out of the stroller. As soon as the restraints were unhooked, Peter made a dash across the grass.

"Kwai, go get him," she said as she pulled out a bottle for Peter, a container that had salad in it for Kwai and some fried chicken for herself.

Caine followed his young son. Peter had found a patch of dandelions and was touching them. "Baba," he murmured.

"Flower, my son, it is a flower"

"Flowa." He tried to imitate his father's words. His attention was drawn to a butterfly that fluttered by his head. Peter ran after it, trying his best to reach out to catch it. "Look, bird." Peter smiled as the butterfly landed on a flower in front of him.

"That is a butterfly, Peter."

"Peter, Kwai, come on, lunch is ready!" Laura called to the two men in her life.

Peter reached out to his father's hand and grasped it, leading his father back to his mother. As they sat down to eat another family enjoying the park walked by the Caines. The little boy was in a baby carriage, is mother was pushing it and the baby's father was walking beside his wife. The stoller was playing a tune and the couple was singing along. "Pop goes the weasel" They continued on their stroll, nodding to the Caines as they went along their way.

Peter finished his bottle. He got up and walked over to his father and sat in his lap. Touching his father's cheek, he studied his face. "Pop," he called out.

"Peter, father."

"Pop," Peter said again.

"No, Peter, I am your father. Father, not Pop," Caine insisted.

Peter looked at his mother, who was trying not to laugh. She nodded at him slightly.

"POP!" he called out.

Caine rolled his eyes.

"He's stubborn, just like his father. Guess it's true, like father like son."

Caine kissed his son on his forehead, he would have to work on correcting. He wanted to be called father, not Pop.

They spent the rest of the day enjoying the beautiful weather and the peaceful surroundings.