The other day, Olivia, the twins, and I were making an expedition to the marvelous Fairway up in Harlem. While she was attending to a call of nature, I was charged with keeping an eye on our two carts, each containing an 8-month-old boy strapped into a car seat.
Those of you who have met them are aware that the twins are adorable young men, even on their infrequent bad days. This particular day was not one of those bad ones, and they were being especially engaging and charming. As we waited, by the coffee kiosk at the west end of the Goya aisle, a procession of five extraordinarly attractive young women passed by, stopping to ogle and coo at the kids, who were more than happy to ogle and coo right back. (The women spared a smile for their dad, too — who also was more than happy to ogle and coo right back.)
Observing this thoughtfully from a few feet away was a 30-ish Fairway employee, his white smock covering his jeans to mid-calf. “Hmmm,” he said, not quite to himself, after the crowd had moved on. “So that‘s what they’re into these days…”