My 5-year-old daughter has something precious in her hands. It's perfectly square, with a bright orange body, a black lens, a neck strap, a distinct red dot logo — and it's making me nervous.
The object in question is an instant camera by Leica, the German company famed for its high-quality craftsmanship, more often found around the necks of cult photography aficionados than over-enthusiastic young children.
Yet here I am, on a recent rainy day, terrified that she will break it, anxiously holding an umbrella above her head (more to keep the camera dry than her) as she jumps with her usual abandon through puddles in Roppongi Hills, the Tokyo development project.