Their little smiles, smiles that only they possess and they don't even know they can mesmerise a roomful of olderlies with them. Their 'rubber ball we used to play with when we were kids' cheeks. Their plump cheeks. Their dumbbell smile plus cheeks, held up by whatever their pebbleandsome eyes spot. Then they waddle towards them, leg forward followed by half the body, then the tandem other leg and body half, like a feisty gingerbread man, with a little more bounce and a grasslet of hair on the head.
If there's an inner baby face located in me, it's abound right now, somewhere in my ribcage, a xylophonic cranium bouncing with happiness at memory.
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