Smile attack

It's 2 p.m. Claire and I are sitting near the counter at Peet's Coffee shop. Claire is unusually quiet and pensive. She pastes her back against my arm and shoulder, starting at every stranger that passes in front of us to pick up their lattes, mesmerized by the pshhhht-pshhhhht of the milk steamer and the clink-clangs of cups on saucers. She sits like this, almost without moving, her fist clenched around the plastic hanging loops of her stuffed cardinal, for twenty minutes.





I pull a bottle out to feed her. Then, I pick her up and place her in the stroller to leave. Suddenly she looks up at me. Her face brightens. She leans forward slightly. She smiles. She giggles. She sticks her toungue out. She seems unable to staunch the gush of happiness. It's as if a new dawn has begun, world peace is possible and politicians can actually lead.