Just then, barreling past the pigeons, bicycles, brightly colored cotton candy vendors, giant Piccirillis, and a lunging mother, a little boy of four or five ran over and grabbed two handfuls of blue Adiposer belly. There in the shadow of the Columbia Triumphant, he stood knuckle-deep, a bit surprised she wasn’t made of marble. But pleased. His mortified mother was not. She made him rinse his now-blue hands in the fountain water, known to be filled with all manner of New York nasty. I’d’ve let him wear his blue explorer’s badge home. At least until naptime. (Followed by a lesson in body autonomy and consent.)

Bodypainting by Michael Peskoff.