C and I walked down the sidewalk, his little hand nestled in my own. At the corner, a man rummaged through the trash can, tossing plastic bottles on the ground.
"Look Heidi," C said. "It's a trash guy. What's he doing?"
"He's recycling," I answered.
The trash guy looked up from his project. His hands were dirty. His clothing disheveled. He eyed C, one quick glance taking in C's crisp white karate gi and said, "Look, it's a little karate guy."
We walked on past toward the dojo. C looked up at me and beamed pride.
"That trash guy could see that I'm a karate guy," he said.
"You're right," I answered.
"Trash guys are really smart, aren't they, Heidi?" C said.
"Perhaps," I answered. "Perhaps they are smarter than all of us."
