There is a wrong way to carry a child on a Citi Bike, and then there is a wronger way. This gentleman has chosen the wrongest possible way to transport his offspring near Brooklyn Bridge Park, balancing her on his hip like she's a sack of lettuce and not a toddler whose fontanelle only just finished fusing while he was undocking the bike. He didn't even toss her in the basket like his predecessors.

And then there's the faces. Hers is locked in a moue of grim despair, an expression of weariness more often seen on beleaguered house wives and overworked tax attorneys. Her hair will be gray from stress by age eight.

The face of her father (presumed) is one of horror and panic, a combination of "WHERE DID THAT DOG COME FROM" and "I SHOULD HAVE STOLEN A SMALLER CHILD."

Neither party is wearing a helmet, but nothing surprises us anymore. What's next? Will the child be standing on the handlebars, juggling flaming swords as the parent salmons against traffic up Lexington Avenue? Will there be multiple children, forming a Cirque du Soleil style human tower on the shoulders of the parent as they salmon against traffic up Lexington Avenue? Don't forget to send video.