The Eyes Have It

I'm always fascinated with people's eyes, when they pass by me while I'm playing and singing, especially when families with children walk by me.  Maybe it's because the children usually seem fascinated with me.  Whether in strollers or walking and holding the hand of their parent, they seem to stare at me with a rivetted gaze. 
Adults are mixed, when it comes to eye contact.  Some smile, making friendly but brief eye contact, and move on.  Others avert their eyes all together, maybe fearing that if our eyes meet, they'll feel trapped into (my projection) throwing money in my guitar case.  A few people actually look at me with concentration, making a focused connection.  Often these people will stop to listen, but not always. 
But the children.  Their gazes make me want to get inside their heads and look at the situation from their perspective.  A tall guy, with a guitar, singing....  Far out.  Maybe the first live music they've ever seen.  I always look back at them, returning their gaze warmly.  Rivetting my eyes on theirs.  Trying to read their thoughts.
Sometimes, if I've just ended a song and I see them coming, I'll sing a children's song, just to try to make a connection with them and give them something to remember.  It usually works.  My favorite song to sing, which usually gets a big smile of recognition, is Itsy Bitsy Spider.  Often children start singing along.  Sometimes the parents do, too. 
The other day I had an interesting and strange encounter.  A young family was walking along, a father and mother with a young child between them, each holding a hand of their toddler all bundled up in winter clothing.  The parents were arguing about something, and the man was talking on the cell phone at the same time.  The child was being totally ignored.  They stopped in front of me, obviously unaware of me, and certainly not to listen to my music.  They stopped to argue.  Their voices were loud, competing with my song.  Yet the child ignored their bickering.  The child was staring at me.  I stopped singing the song and changed to Itsy Bitsy Spider.
The child's troubled look turned into a huge grin.  The child started singing with me, while the parents, still gripping both her hands, argued and bickered.
"...Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain...."
How appropriate.
Then the bubble was popped, when the parents continued on, ignoring their child in tow.  The child craned its neck around to look at me, as she rounded the corner and disappeared.
I'd like to think, the song was a bit of sunshine on the child's rain.
Her look and smile certainly were a moment of bright light for me.