I had a great run this morning, an hour out in the valley on my usual road. I had no sooner reached the bridge when my ride – the combi gris – pulled up. I climbed in, surprised that it was practically empty with only 1 man, 3 women, and 2 children on board.

The tiniest passenger was Camilla. Enormous eyes, cupid lips, and a mind – to me – which  was fixed on something the rest of us couldn’t see. Inquiring, her mom told me she was one years old (and walking). The tiny tot, sitting on her mom’s lap, was constantly looking around as the bus rocked and rattled down the road. She held a snack in her fist which she demurely nibbled while preoccupied by what I can only imagine.

I would look at her from time to time during the 15 minute ride back into town, always speculating what could be going on behind those big luminous eyes.

She was thinking. And watching. And nibbling; like only a little girl can nibble.

PS – I remain entranced by tiny children whose actions demonstrate they live in universes much greater than our own.

And nibbles, one of those most beguiling aspects of femininity that appears ever present from birth. (But maybe you’ve got to be the father of a daughter to see all that.)

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