A GROUCH CROSSES THE STREET

She positively shrieked with delight. Piercingly, vibrantly. A surprising sound from someone barely over a foot tall, and the big smile on her face showed precisely how happy she was to see her older brother and her mom. I think the little girl may have been three or four years old, the brother about six. Shan't venture a guess as to their mother's age, nor the auntie who attended the child.

If one hits the intersection of Stockton and Clay Streets at the right time in the afternoon, it's awash with children. Normally I am a bit hesitant about being so close to our short little fellow Americans, because they are such uncontrolled little daemons at times -- especially troglodyte whelps from the prosperous and entitled suburbs -- but the tiny Cantonese exemplars are frequently better behaved than their white counterparts.
Who are frequently foul little cretins.


Little Cantonese girls are small, and probably harmless.
Unless they're hungry and swarming.


I do not have much experience with young humans.
If I did, I should need a cattle prod.




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