Like mama, Micah may love exploring new places. He was beaming in his highchair when we went to eat in Williamsburg for a change of scenery on an unseasonably warm November day. This is the dude who usually doesn’t want to be confined to anything, be it highchair, carseat, or stroller. But he must have felt at one with the hipsters as he was ‘fitted in his own little flannel shirt and bib decked out with cassette tapes. He was extra smiley and even swiveled around in his seat to give confident, lingering smiles to all the customers. A bit uncharacteristic of him as he tends to be bashful. He gave extra drooley smiles and his thought balloon appeared to say, “heeeyy, where da white women at?” as the waitresses doted on him.

I didn’t want him to bother any customer for too long since they were there to break bread with their friends and enjoy their meals. I couldn’t help but overhear a man talking about some personal, painful family stuff. As the man poured out his heart to his brunch companion with furrowed brow and intense emotion, Micah turned to him and cheesed. Huge grin, extra drool. Micah then proceeded to do something I hadn’t seen him do before. Micah covered his eyes with his little hands, giggled, and uncovered his eyes. He was playing peek-a-boo with this man, but he was playing the part of the parent. I was going to immediately grab Micah and turn him around so that the man didn’t feel awkward or have his flow messed up as he shared some real pain. But right then, the man paused, his face softened, and he did a fake roar for Micah. Micah squealed in delight. For that second, the man looked about seven. And free.