I’m tooling home from Whole Foods behind a double stroller, the mom turtling as if she has all day.
Finally managing to pass her, I peer into the kid’s version of a limo to find two tiny Asian girls perched like kewpie dolls.
One was a bit older than the other dressed smartly alike in lavender sun suits with fat little legs stuffed into mini sneaks.
I’ll admit, all my integrity goes right out the window whenever I encounter babies or puppies, so this time was no different.
“Hi,” I say like your favorite camp counselor, “aren’t you the cutest.”
The mom preening like a peacock, a big version of her chicks, smiles, cooing for them to do the same.
Their expressions, stern and bored, are frozen in place as if they were very short models on a coffee break.
I then see, they’re both casually holding rubber pastel sunglasses, I hear are all the rage at preschool.
The ham in me arrives, whipping out my own Jackie Os, putting them on, now crouching Indian style in front of their parked limo.
Like a fashion shoot, they both slide theirs on as if someone said…ACTION, as though it were a Hallmark spot, being shot for Christmas.