I find it increasingly amusing that, while once Charlie so resembled me (black hair, brown hair, facial features) I'd tell people we had a baby who was 'me as a boy,' he now very clearly takes after his dad.
Jim still has an inch or so on Charlie whom we once thought might be over six feet, but maybe not.
We are in a parking lot just over the Bayonne border. Liberty State Park got smashed (/other words that end in '-ashed') in the hurricane so there will be some improvising on Hudson County rides.
Charlie likes to get off to a walking start.
Usually he follow the path but in this instance, he made his own path (leading me to reminisce about what a professor, in a Chinese intellectual history class years ago, said about the Dao, 道, that it is the way, the path, people take cutting a bit though the grass as they are inclined to rather than walking as the concrete indicates).
Charlie's talent is to take the Dao and just stay on it. For truly, he never falls for anyone's trend or fad or style: Madison Avenue has no sway on him, the boy who does not want gifts, who does not ask for any.
Our task it is, to stick with his pace.