LJ is still not letting me post properly and it's getting really fucking BALLS. I keep having to type these up in wordpad.

So, Korean food with marri was pretty much awesome. When we arrived it was absolutely packed, and consequently the service was a bit slow to start off with. In fact, there was even a bit of waiting to get a table. Honestly though, that part was not terribly unpleasant- we were in a good position to people-watch out the glass front of the restaurant and be watched in return.

It was actually a little heartwarming, in a manner of speaking. In my case the people mainly doing the watching were a couple of bright-eyed and adorable asian children who couldn't have been more than 2 and 3. They noticed us straight away - not a minute after we sat down to wait - and the older of the two (a girl with long hair and an enraptured smile) pointed at me in a manner that translates across all languages: a very clear and definite, "Mommy, look!" They were admonished of course, but that didn't stop it at all. The pointing continued until the girl was bodily turned back around in her seat.

Now, normally I percieve children rationally. I recognize them as the vile, germ-ridden, disgusting little beasts they are. However, I do remember being a child myself. It may or may not be in keeping with the majority of adults, but my childhood memories are the most numerous and vivid that I have. And children, being what they are, generally point and look at an object or person because they've found something out of the ordinary and wondrous to their pliable little brains. This, I can't begrudge. In fact, I'm usually glad to have earned it. To my mind that look means I've planted an image and given them a concept they've never had before, even if they're not sure entirely what they're looking at yet. Pointing means they deem it interesting enough to ask what it is they are seeing. There's no telling, usually, if they'll remember what it is they wanted to ask by the time five minutes has passed, but this was not one of those usual moments.

A little later in our dining experience, as eating was winding down, the second of the two children - the younger who I'd guess was possibly one and a half, still toddling along with the help of adult hands - passed by our table on what I must assume was a trip to the bathroom. As he noticed me he raised his hand once more and pointed, looking up at the man I assumed to be his father.

Something in my mind registered a tiny, personal triumph.