The little girl’s feet barely made the edge of the bus seat. Her ruffled socks peeked from her brown corduroy slacks. Dark circles lined her eyes, much like my daughter had when her allergies were the worst. However, the child’s face was radiant as she chatted with her mother. No emotion could be hidden. Sometimes she tilted her head, other times she grinned. Her mother asked her something and her face grew serious as she pondered the answer. Then it lit up as she shared the information. Her mother clapped in pleasure and the child mimicked her. Their complicity was a joy to watch.
As I got up to leave I asked the mother, ‘Quel age est votre fille?’ The woman asked the little girl. ‘Trois,’ she said but held up only two fingers. The mother held up three and the daughter copied her and let loose another one of her killer smiles. I couldn’t help but smile myself.
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