Cute Kid

After picking up a morning coffee near the International Market Place I sat in the circular garden dedicated to Queen Emma.

A family of seven stopped to play. From their clothes and accessories, but more noticeably their self-assuredness they exuded an aura of wealth. The lady was a beautiful blonde, tanned and athletic. If I had not seen her kids I would not have believed that she was a mother five times over.

The father, who was about the same age, chased after the boy, 5, while the mother looked after her toddler daughter. The two eldest and the baby they left alone.

I was particularly amused by the baby. His head turning rapidly, he would assess his surroundings, then crawl to another spot and repeat the process. At intervals he would take a bite out of the malasada that he held tightly in his left hand. His parents clearly weren't worried about him ingesting harmful bacteria or rolling around on the heavily trafficked artificial turf.

They probably weren't Americans. and that was too bad.