I've got a little less than an hour to write today's blog post.
I'm sitting at Bagel Central at my favorite table -- by the window second table on the left as you enter, with my favorite bagel -- sesame water bagel with butter, and my favorite coffee -- large.
A toddler, a little boy with big eyes and a tiny dollop of a nose weaves around the room on stiff legs. He wears a navy blue coat with the hood up. Long loose light brown curls poke out from under the hood. His young father follows but doesn't hover.
The little boy sees the old fashioned cast iron steam radiator. His interest is peaked, he puts on a burst of speed and reaches out. The curious look on the boy's face changes to confusion and from confusion to a pained grimace as he touches the hot radiator.
The dad deftly scoops his son up in one arm and says quietly and calmly, "No, don't touch. Hot." They move out of my line of sight. I expect the child to cry. He doesn't.
A few moments later I hear the little boy meowing softly like a cat. His father pushes him, now safely buckled into his stroller, out of the warm restaurant and into the cold blue December afternoon.
The boy wears a pair of much too large dun colored fleece mittens. He waves his hands in the air and laughs to see the mittens flap like little wings as they walk past my window and away.