Charles and Elizabeth watched as the child with the umbrella ran back into the sunshine, dumping the two lumps from his bucket under the banana tree.
The little boy then pulled out a small rag from his pocket, stood on his tiptoes, and carefully wiped down each large leaf of the small banana tree. He wasn't very skilled, but he did it with great concentration.
As he wiped, he mumbled something to himself. Charles's sharp hearing allowed him to pick up what the boy was saying.
"You have to grow up faster. When you're big, I'll have lots of bananas. My own bananas. No one else is allowed to take them."
"I'll bring you poop every day. I'll hold my poop in just for you."
"You have to remember, I planted you. Your bananas are mine. I even carved my name on you."
Just then, Charles felt a warm breath by his ear, and a magnetic, sensual voice whispered to him.
"Cute, isn't it? Kids can be noisy, but other times they're just lovable. Do you want one?"
