Learning to count
Last week in a cafe, as I was having lunch with a friend, a couple sat at the table beside us with their baby, whereupon the infant began to stare and stare at me, looking away and then looking back over and smiling, and gurgling, and laughing - and I, naturally, being a person of immense dignity, responded by courting the baby's full attention to the max, grinning and making faces and playing peekaboo behind my hands. Babies and children tend to like me, and I like them back: if I'm at a wedding I'll spend a good long time cuddling any attendant babies rather than making conversation with besuited elders; and if your small child should challenge me to a race in the park, of a fine summer's day, you can bet your last penny I'll lead from the front and then stage a pratfall on the final lap. My dad has five younger siblings, most of whom had children as I was growing up, and so throughout the 80s and 90s there was always a succession of tiny cousins to hold and make