needed. When she’d helped me decorate the house, she’d gone all out. Hell, now that I thought about
it, the last time they’d been on the table was probably the last time she visited. She was the sweetest
thing and all of us had a hard time saying no to her. I didn’t want her to feel bad, so whenever they
came for a visit, I spent half the day trying to make the house look just like it had when she was done.
But tonight, it felt right to ask Sammy to set the table. It was a good chore for a little boy.
Sam immediately started neatly stacking his papers, carefully sorting them into the folders he’d
gotten them from. He scooped up his highlighters and pens, putting them in a pencil pouch, and then
stowed everything in his backpack.
“Did you make some progress today?”
Sam beamed at me. “A ton, thank you. Coming over here was a really good idea. It’s impossible
to work at my place because there’s always noise. Having the bedroom over the living room sucks
most of the time.”
“Well, any time you need to get away, you’re welcome here,” I told him. Even if he wasn’t up for
play time and needed to be big, I wanted him to work someplace he felt comfortable.
“What’s for dinner?” Sam asked as he grabbed the silverware and placemat I’d set on the island.
He fumbled when he noticed the chunky plastic utensils I’d tossed into the cart when he wasn’t
looking. It was a gamble, but one that paid off when the corner of his mouth turned up as he ran a
finger over the tines. He picked up the spoon, turning it over in his hand as if he was getting used to
the weight of it in his palm. He looked up at me and that shy grin widened into a huge smile. “I love
these. Did you have them already?”
“Nope, those are just for you,” I told him, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. “You said you
wanted me to push you a bit, and little boys don’t eat with the big forks and spoons.”
“Because they can get owies from the pointy parts,” he added.
“That’s right. And Daddy doesn’t want you to get hurt. That wouldn’t make for a very fun night.”
“But I won’t be able to twirl my ‘sghetti on this,” he complained, holding up the fork.
“That’s why I’m going to cut it up for you. It’ll be in the perfect sized bites for a hungry boy.” He
blushed when his tummy rumbled. It was always strange to watch a boy sink into little space. It was
like rolling back the hands of time. While it would never be the life for me, I envied littles and their
ability to depart from the adult world for a time. I opened the drawer between us, wrapping my hands
around my next surprise. “And you might get messy, so I bought you this.”
