Walking down 7th Avenue in Park Slope, three fast-moving figures passed me on my left, a little girl and boy and their young mother. They wore sneakers and jeans. The mother was talking on a cell, trying to ignore her son’s repeated and increasingly louder request.

   

     Request evolved into plea, plea into demand. Then the child began to jump and shout, “Give me the cell phone!” Finally, Mother handed it over.

            

     As the distance between me and the three figures grew, they diminished in size, but the volume of the boy’s voice somehow remained the same. “Daddy, I want a bagel! Mommy won’t get me one! No, not later! Now! Daddy, I want . . .”