Sunny Afternoon in '66

"Oh, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy!" Amy gritted her teeth in frustration as her toddler spewed oatmeal across the tiny kitchen. "What are we going to do with you, you little monster?"

Patiently she wiped baby food off his face, his t-shirt, the high-chair, her blouse, the table....

From the radio, a simple but driving guitar riff filled the kitchen, and the young mother began swiping her cloth and singing in time. It was Wild Thing by the Troggs, which had been playing a lot lately.

Wild thing, you make my heart sing
You make everything messy, wild thing

"That's you, kiddo. You're a wild thing! A little wild monster, you are!"

Wild thing, I think I love you
But but not when you throw food!

Tommy laughed and waved his spoon in tempo. Oatmeal spattered with every wave. Amy took the spoon from him and set it down. Holding his little fists in her hands, she moved his arms so they danced together, the little boy chair dancing and she bobbing and swaying beside him. For those few precious minutes, they were the only things in the world. Food stamps, empty cupboards, overdue rent, Jimmy MIA in 'Nam.... all of those faded away.

Wild thing, I think I love you
But I wanna know for sure

No, there was no doubt. She loved her little wild thing, and knew that he loved her, the uncomplicated and unconditional love of a little boy.

Come on and hold me tight
I love you

He began to scream and kick. With a deep sigh, she lifted him up out of the high chair she'd got for a dollar at a thrift shop, and held him tight, like the song said, and they rocked and swayed to the music. Finally, he sighed and settled down. With one final wipe at the worst of the baby food, she set him down in the crib.

"Sleep, Tommy. Even little monsters need their sleep."

He yawned and closed his eyes. Merciful quiet, for an hour at best. She rinsed the cloth in the sink and did a more thorough cleanup, then poured herself a glass of water and sank into a chair to watch her sleeping child. She wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, and blew up to flip her dank bangs off her skin.

The radio was playing Sunny Afternoon, its descending bass runs and sweet harmonies a pleasant contrast to the Troggs. She gave a tired smile at the opening verse, some rich bum who's lost his money and his yacht, poor baby. Tomorrow she had an interview at the new K-Mart, which used to be Kresges. Her mom was coming to babysit and had promised to help cover her shifts if she got the job.

Now I'm sittin' here
Sippin' at my ice cold beer - "Don't I wish!" Amy snorted, sipping her tepid water.
Lazin' on a sunny afternoon...

Well, yes, however tired she might be, she had that, a few minutes of lazing on a sunny afternoon. She was young. She had faith. Jimmy would come back, he would, and even if the worst happened, she had Tommy, the son of their love. She would get the K-Mart job. They would survive.

In the summertime
In the summertime
In the summertime

As the final refrain repeated, her eyes fluttered shut, and the empty glass sat unheeded in her lap.