“Where’s N?” my husband asked, scanning the sidewalk around him. I pointed lazily to our house. We were catching up with our neighbor, Ben, who we hadn’t seen since the last good weather. We’d been on our way to the park, piled with scooters and balance bikes, but had been waylaid. N, it seemed, had gotten bored and headed back home.
Waving goodbye to Ben, we charged back into the house. “Come on, N! Let’s go the playground! Quick, get your shoes on!
“No, I’m finishing a project for Ben and Julian!” he yelled back. There he sat, sneakers on, hood up, ready for the playground, but inspired to make a “project” for our neighbors. While we’d chatted, he’d drawn some flowers, cut them out, glued them onto a piece of paper, and was no laboring to spell, “To Ben and Julian and Mark.” Finishing, he grabbed my hand as he bounded down our porch.
“I’m so excited to give this to Ben!” N beamed up at me, his face as open as a sunflower. We galloped up Ben’s stairs and put it in the mailbox.
“I’m so excited for Ben to find my project!” N beamed as we walked down the street, to the playground. We arrived, and N dove into the slides and firetrucks and climbers full force. A few minutes later, he ran over to me.
“I’m so excited to walk back home by Ben’s house and see if he found my project yet!” N beamed, before racing back to the playground.
I beamed as he ran away, having been given so much.