We went out to dinner to grab a quick bite of anything fishy at a Red Lobster, figuring it was early and we could have our tilapia on the terrace. A refreshing rain finally washed away the heinous pollen, and it was pleasant and cool outside.
We were walking to a corner where there was a table, and I hadn't noticed the rising hysterics in a woman, but evidently Jonathan did, and processed the picture.
Somehow a little toddler (maybe a year old--just barely walking) had somehow climbed between the slats of the terrace and was headed for the traffic in front of the restaurant. We were locked in behind the railing, and the only way to get to the kid was to walk back around through the front of the restaurant. The mother was pleading with the kid not to move, which is pretty much like asking the wind to stop blowing.
In one giant blur that looked like a choreographed ballet, Jonathan cleared the railing, swooped the kid up in his arms, and climbed back up the landscaping rocks to hand him off to the still spazzing Mommy.
He then calmly climbed back onto the terrace and announced that maybe jumping like that in sandals wasn't a very good idea. That's it, he shrugged off the lady's profuse thanks and ordered a bowl of clam chowder like it was all in a day's work.
When pressed, he said he was thinking of his cousins, and could we please pass the bread.