Truly Madly Deeply

The whole city,it seemed, was on this path, enjoying the morning. We dodged speeding Rollerbladers (an alrming number of them skating - this is not a misprint- backwards) , strolling couples, darting toddlers, prancing dogs, and zipping cyclists. 
Mostly, though, we dodged breathtakingly athletic, beautifully chiseled runners of every hue, every one of them with great teeth. To them I'd just like to say thanks for making me feel only slightly onlder than King Tut.
Eventully, we made our way to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where a band was playing near the front steps. 
"C'mon," I said, "Let's run up the stairs, just like in the movie."
"Uh, what movie?"
Oy. Kids nowadays - no culture

From the top, we gazed out over the urban skyline, this City of Brotherly Love newly dear to our hearts. I yelled the first thing that came to mind : "Hey! Come back with our bikes!"
Just kidding. The bikes, unchained and unattended, survived untouched.
We sat on the sidewalk and ate semi-petrified hot dogs that I'm pretty sure had been spinning on the rotisserie since before the Rizzo administration.
"Dad, these are the best hot dogs I've ever had!" the kid raved.

They sat a few tables from me and ate mostly in silence, but it was a comfortable, easy silence. He reached over and unwrapped her cheeseburger. She swung her legs beneath her as she chewed.
I noted with approval that he held back her frozen dessert until she had finished her meal. Then he sprinkled the topping on it a little at a imte as she ate so each bite would be special.
...What struck me about this father and daughter was how effortlessly they interacted. He was not one of those somthering "quality-time" types jabbering and treating his child like a miniature adult at a cocktail party.
But he was there for her, and she for him. It was something to watch.

After the man and girl were done eating, he walked her to the bathroom and stood outside the door until she came out. She held her hands up to his nose so he could smell the soap, proof sh had washed them.
At the door to the parking lot, she pulled. "Push," he said. She pushed, the door swung open, and she looked up at him as if he were the smartest man alive.
As they steppted outside, it occurred to me that parenting is not rocket science. You don't need a doctoral degree in child development to be decent at it.
Sometimes it is as simple as saying push instead of pull.