Boy: My mom gets off after we stop at the bridge. Do you see my mom on the way to work every day?
Me: Not every day, but sometimes.
Boy: My dad is bigger than my Mom.
Me: Why do you think that is?
Boy: Well, my mom is big, but my dad is bigger. (Pauses, shuffles feet and moves fingers to some song no one else can hear.) My dad doesn’t wear pajamas.
A young father with a daughter in a stroller joined me in the elevator down to the train. We said good morning. When I asked the little girl if she was enjoying her Cheerios she looked me straight in the eyes and then looked away silently. When I told her that Cheerios is my favorite cereal, she looked me straight in the eyes and then looked away silently. As the elevator stopped and the door opened, I told her and her dad that I hope they have a good day. She looked me straight in the eyes and then looked away silently. When her father started to back out of the elevator the toddler lifted one hand from the little cup holding her cereal and started shouting at me as loudly as she could, “Bye-bye. Bye-bye.”
One can paint-by-number on one’s phone while jabbing one’s neighbor with one’s elbow.