"That will be $2.17."

The man with the baby flipped the iPad around, allowing me to scribble something akin to my signature with my finger. The baby was tiny, and wide-eyed, and could barely hold his head up. He was wearing tiny overalls and seemed engaged in his work, the work of being a baby, a baby that was being held by his father behind the counter of a cafe, a father who was balancing the joys and inconveniences of both fatherhood and employment, both literally and figuratively, here in this very moment. The father passed the child to someone else behind the counter so he could pull an espresso shot. The tiny human maintained his vocational focus, a single-minded dedication to Being a Baby. He sucked his fist in concentration. His task was clear.