Baby Bob, just 3-months old, looks like he can't wait to walk. At least that's what I see when I see him squirm in his mother's arms and when he holds his arms out as if he wants to give the whole street a hug. Neighbors like to stand around and watch his baby gyrations: how he puts his hands to his mouth, squints in the sun, sucks his fingers or rubs his eyes before ruminating little streams of clear spring baby spittle all over his chin. Old timers call this "the mystique" of baby watching; an activity I didn't know could be such a sport until I ran into Baby Bob's family and friends the other day and stopped for a moment to introduce myself to the new Mercer Street resident. There were a...
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