May 22, 2001 | 1:00 p.m.

The northwest corner of Third Avenue and Fourteenth Street, in the rain. A little boy stands hand in hand with a woman, maybe his mother, maybe his babysitter. The hood of her turquoise rain slicker is pulled tight around her face, but it's unzipped and her khakis are showing raindrops in spots of darker brown. She is just another damp New Yorker on a Tuesday morning, but the little boy is charming pedestrians. His Tasmanian Devil hat is pulled all the way down on his face, covering his eyes and most of his nose, and he waves his head around, tilting it back and trying to see out, sticking his tongue out at nothing, twisting at the end of her arm like he wants to jump in the puddles. The light changes and we pass them halfway across the street, the little boy still vibrating with energy, the woman walking at a steady pace.