Sitting on the subway, looking over I noticed a family unit of four. A young, stylish looking mother, a little girl — possibly 4 or so, a young boy— possibly 10 or so, and a slightly older boy—maybe 13. The older boy and little girl were sitting down and playing with a squishy looking toy that, when met with the right amount of pressure, lit up. It was primarily the little girl’s toy— she was very much its guardian— but she was loosely open to suggestions from the older boy on how to play with it, and even allowed him, on occasion, to join in on the playing.
The other boy, who stood for their entire ride, looked on and deliberately made teasing comments that, successfully, drew vocal disagreements from the little girl. The woman, also standing, alternated between keeping an eye on them, checking her phone, and checking her hair in the subway car door reflection.
One stop before they got off, the woman moved closer to the door. The boy that stood, at home with entertaining himself, silently danced his way to a pole closer to the same door. His dancing brought to mind the choo-choo train step complete with alternating arms, wheel like, powering him along. As the train began slowing down, the woman held out her hand and the little girl climbed down from her seat before proffering hers. Then looking over at the still sitting older boy, the little girl, with the confidence and authority often embodied by little children called out, “Come on____!” His name, to my ear, lost in pronunciation.
Without teasing, without delay, without taking offense, just simple acquiescence that spoke volumes of him and their relationship, he got up easily and joined the party several seconds before the doors opened and they exited the car.