It's Mahk!

Coming out of the grocery store our purple rocket shopping cart was hijacked by a kindly helper who introduced himself as "Mahk!" in heavy Bostonian English. Smiling, he informed me that he would be taking care of us today. I'm usually one to avoid this type of help, but not even I could resist the childlike joy in this man's face. Pushing my groceries was his Christmas morning. I yielded girls and groceries into the supervised care of this down-syndrome hero, feeling strangely special to receive his attention. Then he zoomed the girls to our car, even made sound effects. He loaded all the groceries into the trunk, took note of all our names, and generally made a gentleman of himself. I put Curly in the car to get herself started on the seatbelt process while I grabbed baby Louise. I heard Suzie slam the door behind her and Mark rushed over, to play. I heard quacking and giggles. I felt secure in taking my time getting Sweetie Blue out of the rocket and into her seat. A soft hand reached over the shotgun headrest, quack-quack-quacking around. Looking for my curly little love. It's MAHK!!! He appeared with black eyes shining. He was delighted. She was delighted. We were delighted. He stuck around for one more round of "Who is this Duck?". Then off he went to save the day of some other customer who had no idea they were in need.