Noah follows me into the small area that has many bouquets of flowers. I find one that has a mix of blue and purple and put them in the cart.
“Who are those for?”
“Uncle Miles.”
“Boys don’t get flowers,” he says, frowning.
“Anyone can get flowers,” I tell him. “Don’t you think they’re pretty?”
He looks at the ones in the cart, then at another bouquet still on the shelf. “I like those better.”
They’re very colorful. Oranges, pinks, yellows. Like a sunset.
“They are nice. Do you want to get them for your mom?”
“I don’t have any money. I’m not old enough for a job.”
I laugh. This kid is funny.
“How about I let you borrow the money then?”
“Okay,” he says. “But I won’t be able to pay you back for alongtime.”
Shaking my head, I grab the flowers and put them next to the other ones. I find the aisle that has the baking ingredients and choose a five-pound bag of flour. Should be enough.
“Can I get a snack?” Noah asks as we make our way to the register.
“Are you allowed snacks?”
“Yeah, Mom usually lets me pick one out, but I have to wait to eat it until after dinner.”
“You’re a good kid, Noah. You can get two snacks.”
“Two?” he gasps. “Wow.”
I’m impressed he isn’t lying to get his way. He’s fully respecting his mother’s wishes and being honest with me. It’s sweet.
“Actually, do you think we should get a cake or something? For dessert?” I say, looking around to see if I can spot where the bakery is.
“Hmm…” He taps his chin. “That sounds like a good idea… but only if I can still get my snacks too.”
I laugh and turn the cart in the other direction. “Of course, bud.”
We get brownies instead of a cake, because according to Noah, everyone prefers that. I’m trusting him. While we’re in line, he picks out two Twix bars for his snack.
“You know,” he says. “Uncle Miles really likes these.” He points to the Kit-Kat bar.
“Does he?”
“Yep. He’d probably bereallyhappy if you bought it for him.”
I don’t know why it sounds like this kid is giving me pointers, but I’ll take it. I grab the king-sized Kit-Kat and put it on the belt with the other stuff.
“Wait, what about your mom? We can’t forget her.”
“That’s what the second Twix is for,” he says with a smile.
Fuck, can this kid be any more thoughtful?
