This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2016, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

This spring while eating donuts in a donut shop in Texas with my son, his wife, and their 4-year-old daughter, I had an experience that reminded me of that old French saying, "The more things change the more they stay the same."

Here's what happened.

As we sat there eating our doughnuts (also, I had a kolache, which is NOT relevant to this story, but still) a young mother walked into the donut shop with her son who looked to be about the same age as my granddaughter. He was a lanky sweet-faced redhead whose hair had been slicked down to his scalp. Also, his shirt was tucked into his pants. Clearly, he'd been mom-groomed. But what I really noticed was the educational toy lobster he carried in his hand.

Yes. A big old plastic educational toy lobster.

Here's the other thing I noticed: That little boy took one look in our direction and was immediately smitten with my granddaughter. You could almost see his eyes pop out of their sockets like a cartoon character. You could also see the wheels turning in his head: Must. Get. Girl's. Attention.

So this is what he did. He waved his educational toy lobster at her.

My granddaughter didn't notice.

He inched away from his mother and waved the educational toy lobster some more.

My granddaughter's indifference to the lobster (and also the boy) was monumental. He responded by moving in until he stood at the edge of our table, holding the toy lobster aloft like a trophy. When he finally had my granddaughter's attention, this boy delivered one of the best pickup lines ever invented: "Hey," he said, "I'm getting a sperm whale for my birthday."

I burst out laughing (sorry, Little Boy!) because suddenly I had a memory of this same granddaughter's father (i.e. "my son") when he was a little boy in a similar position.

We were living in a New York community where children were invited on Wednesday nights to clean up, play Bingo in a church basement and have a sit-down dinner to teach them some manners. By the time we arrived (late) the first evening, the only seats available were at the girls' table. I watched my 7-year-old son slide miserably into his seat, waiting for the onslaught of super-sized girl cooties to hit him.

But when he finally looked up, he noticed the bright-eyed little girl sitting across the table from him and oh, zing! He was interested. Way, way, way interested. So my son began trying to impress her. First he made a series of expiring frog noises.

The little girl didn't notice.

My son tried again. He picked up a paper cup and began stuffing it into his mouth, after which he chewed it (slowly and deliberately) into an impressive wad.

The little girl could not have cared less. It was like she had watched boys chew up paper cups in front of her since the day she was born.

Finally, my son went big. HUGE. He picked up his dinner fork and began combing his hair with it. He was all dude! I'm a dude combing my hair! I'm a dude coming my hair with a fork! BET YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS BEFORE, BABY!

The little girl noticed, of course. But was she impressed?

Um. Let's just say at that moment she joined that great sisterhood of women who have no idea why men do the things they do. As for me, it was déjà vu all over again — the faces had changed, but that age-old dynamic of guys trying (and failing) to impress the ladies remained exactly the same.

Ann Cannon can be reached at acannon@sltrib.com or facebook.com/anncannontrib.