Man, Woman, Child. Connectedness on the City Streets

A man and woman walked out of the Buy Buy Baby store and merged with the flow of the sidewalk traffic.

She was pushing the stroller. He was carrying the little girl. And although I was a few steps behind, I could feel their connectedness.

 It was in the way they related to each other. They were together in that space-- even whilst engaged in separate activities-- her, pushing the stroller, him, slightly in the lead, but at the same time every so often turning back towards her, all the while cradling or shifting the little girl so they could both be comfortable.  I could feel the love. The love the adults had for each other. The love the adults had for the little girl.  They were aware of each other and the energy around them came across as open and relaxed.

And I think that's part of what kept me looking at them-- that easy, open connectedness--out there on the busy city streets. Speaking from personal experience, it's far too easy to be caught up in one's own world-- even when traveling with familiar faces.

At one point, the little girl turned and we made eye contact. Pacifier in her mouth, her pretty, dark brown eyes, calmly met and held my gaze. Her hair, styled in two puffs, brought to my mind images of Mickey Mouse ears. I smiled at her.

As her parents made their way across the street, I was the first to break eye contact. But a few steps later, I glanced over just in time to see the man kiss her on the cheek and the woman's smile bloom at the sight.  The little girl then reached out her left hand towards the woman, who immediately treated it to an enthusiastic, playfully dramatic,  audible kiss.

Although I couldn't see the little girl's face, I like to believe that she was delighted.

I know I was :)

Seen from the Bus Stop : To Run or Not to Run

From the moment she stepped out-- no, bounced out-- of the Deli,  energy personified, I was drawn.

I was across the street. My work day had ended about an hour before and now, carrying grocery bags in one hand, a six pack of Bounty's Paper towels in the other, backpack on (living a double life as my sometimes oversized purse), I was awaiting the last leg of public transportation to take me home.  If it wasn't for the bags, I would've walked the 30 minutes.

Seeing her across the street, I thought, if I had her energy, I would've walked the 30 minutes.

She looked to be around three years of age, had curly, black hair, and wore a purple top covered in patterned white flecks, over dark slacks.

She had exited the store with what I took to be a recent snack purchase-- its brown, sleeve-like wrapping, bringing to mind those that housed thin, flaky, buttery tasting crackers. She also moved about three steps quicker than the guardian who had most likely purchased the aforementioned snack.

Leading with the package in her right hand, she veered off in that direction until her guardian's comment had her swerving to the left.  But before she could leave him behind again, he made another comment, and this time succeeded in pausing her in her tracks.

Although I couldn't hear him, I had a sense of what was going on. It was a warm, summer evening and he was an older gentleman whose physique currently leaned more towards that of Santa Claus.   His demeanor appeared patient as he continued to speak, and while it was clear she was listening, she was also looking off into the distance, her tiny body fully facing the newly agreed upon direction.

He wanted her to hold his hand, and at the same time seemed to want it to appear as though it was her choice.

A few seconds passed. She offered him her left hand.  They took about two steps. A few seconds later, she let go and tried to speed up.

Once again he stopped her with seemingly patient words. Suddenly, she smiles, surrenders her package, and breaks out into a run.

Package in hand, the guardian tears into the wrapping-- it looks like crackers or chips--, and at the same time calls out, that she needs to slow down.

When she gets to the end of the sidewalk, she turns and waits for him to catch up.  Then with her hand again in his, crosses the street, before promptly freeing herself to resume running.

Watching her run, and silently cheering her energy and tenacity, I definitely had a moment of thinking, "Ah, youth!"

And then I found myself wondering if he had requested the snack as a ploy to get her to stay with him?

Well, whatever his intent, to my mind, they both got something out of it. She got what appeared to be what she had wanted all along-- to run and move about on her own terms. And although she may not have given in to staying with him, he got the snack 😜😉

Happy Father's Day 2016

Upon those who are bestowed the title of Father, and are thus in thoughts, actions and words, genuinely doing their best to touch, nurture and enrich the lives of their children from a place of love, to these fathers who have been, to these fathers who are, and to these fathers who will become, you have my deepest gratitude and heart felt admiration. Showers of blessings upon you this Father's Day. And with love, with respect, and with many, many thanks, cheering you on❤️

A Boy and his Stroller at the BBG

In direct opposition to his guardian's request, the little boy, who looked to be about three years old, kept pushing his stroller, away from said guardian, and across the grassy knoll before stepping down onto the concrete sidewalk.

It's possible he could have been ignoring his guardian. But an argument could also be made that he was just so focused on his adventure with the stroller, and was therefore too caught up to even register the request.  There is a third possibility: that the truth of the matter was a combination of both scenarios. And the more I watched him, the more I leaned towards this third possibility.

This was the second time I had noticed them.  The first time was about 15 minutes earlier when the guardian "hid" behind a tree, and encouraged the little boy to find him.  Even then, the little boy's fondness for the stroller was apparent as he insisted on pushing it over to his guardian and, still pushing, proceeded to follow his guardian's movements around the tree.

Now that the boy found himself off the grass and about 10 feet away from his guardian, he decided he was ready to head back.  Slowly maneuvering the stroller around, moving his feet in the slightly unsteady march young children often engage in when acclimating to walking, he once again pushed the stroller but this time, it wouldn't budge.  As he was now closer in proximity to me, I could clearly see his look of surprise, quickly replaced by that of confusion.  What he hadn't figured out yet was that the area he needed to get back to, now required a step up.

I knew his guardian was sitting in the grass, watching, but my first instinct was to help the little boy.  I almost did.  But then I decided to wait, rationalizing his guardian was being attentive, and that, if necessary, the boy would call for assistance-- if not in words, then at the very least, via sounds or gestures of distress.

So, I watched.

After a few tries at pushing and meeting with the same results, he leaned on the handles, exerting enough pressure to lift the front wheels of the stroller to clear the drop separating the sidewalk from the grassy knoll.   And with that hurdle (or in this case, brick) cleared, he was able to push the rest of the stroller up, step up as well, and once again find himself firmly back on the grassy terrain.

I was so happy for him I could have cheered out loud!  But I didn't. I'm almost certain though that I had a big smile on my face-- so proud of him and his accomplishment.

And I was also happy I had given him the chance to work it out without quickly rushing in to fix it -- especially since he had never expressed a need for help in the first place.

Thanks for the lesson, stroller pushing kid 😉🙂
---- seen at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.