His mother’s attempt to remove the child’s thumb from his mouth had apparently annoyed him. His cheeks puffed out audibly and sunk in deeper than before.
His eyes remained fixed on the guest but they were the only things about him that were still. His legs trembled as he swayed sideways and the whole of his skin quivered as if it was about to erupt.
The mother stroked his head but the boy jerked away.
He took a couple of raspy breaths through his nose. His lips opened but the front teeth, pushed flat out by years of thumb-suckling, remained clenched on the unfortunate thumb.
He removed his eyes from the visitor for the first time since she arrived and turned to look at his mother, and pointed at the guest with renewed agitation. His mouth opened. The thumb, however, remained resting on the lower teeth as if it had long given up the idea of freedom.
“Pinch.”
“Good, good boy. You spoke.”
“Pinch.”
“Wonderful.” She clapped her hands and tears of joy ran down her cheeks. “Try again. You can do it.”
“Pinch. Want pinch now.” His voice clanged like pieces of rusted metal.
“Oh. Is that what you want?” The mother tried to caress his head , but he kept jerking it away. “Just a pinch? A little one this time, okay? Go ahead.”
The boy turned towards the visitor and for the first time, she looked straight at him. The flies began to buzz again and sank until they hovered just above her head.
The child put both hands flat down on the ground. He raised his butt and using his hands to propel himself, launched into a feet-first crawl that covered the distance to the visitor in a blur.
Then he sat up, reached out with both hands and grabbed the woman so hard on one upper arm that a splintering of bone was heard.
A grin transformed his face and his eyes shut in ecstasy.
