Mindfulness.

Across the aisle from me on the R train, a father and son sit, the father being about my age, the little boy around Lane's age or Sam's. The father is playing a portable video game, which is sounding lots of bells and whistles. The kid says, "Daddy, let me play," and reaches out his hand. The dad monotones, "No," and slumps into the game like a teenager.

The kid rests his head on his dad's lap, kicking his little feet back and forth methodically, as if he were playing piano. He's wearing a camo down jacket; his face is encompassed by the fake fur trim of his hood. The crests of his lips are perfectly rounded, bottom lip inflated. He looks like a wolf puppy.

The dad is using his son's back as an armrest.