That day on the park bench, a young mother was sitting beside him.

The child was four or five years old, squatting on the ground watching ants.
The child looked up: Mom, look, the ants are moving house.
The mother was staring at her phone. Hmm.
Child: Why are they moving?
The mother swiped on the screen: It’s going to rain.
Child: How do you know?
The mother didn’t answer. The screen’s light illuminated her face.
The child stood up and tugged at her sleeve. She brushed his hand away: Don’t bother, Mom is busy.
The child squatted down again. Picked up a stick and drew on the ground.
A rectangle, two circles, a line.
Finished drawing, looked up. The mother was typing.
He rubbed out the drawing. Used his hand to dig at the dirt on the ground.
The mother finished typing and looked down. She grabbed his hand: Dirty, don’t dig.
The child retracted his hand. Behind his back.
No longer watching the ants. No longer drawing. Just sitting there. Hands behind his back.
Sat until the mother closed her phone. Got up and said, Let’s go.
The child also stood up. Took two steps. Looked back at the ground.
The rectangle was still there. The two circles were still there. The line was still there.
It was a drawing of three people.
And you. What have your children drawn? Did you see?