Page 133 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I haven’t told Millie yet.

This is still fragile. Still forming.

What if I combined my woodwork with something painted?

Not just carved toys. Not just tactile pieces.

Layered. Shapes cut clean and simple. Foxes, moons, whales. I could burn in detail lines, leave the grain visible, make it feel organic. Then maybe… maybe someone like Millie could paint over parts of it. Add color without hiding the wood.

It wouldn’t be random craft table clutter.

It would be cohesive.

Intentional.

I draw a fox first. Curled tail. Clean silhouette.

Then I sketch a crescent moon with tiny carved stars etched along the curve. Then a whale with waves carved inside its body, the wood grain becoming water.

Small tactile pieces for kids who need grounding. For adults who like holding something solid when their brain won’t shut up.

Something practical.

Beautiful.

Mine.

If I can build something here, something that doesn’t rely on a board’s approval or a man’s permission, I won’t feel so breakable.

I won’t feel like I can be boxed up and carried out again.

My phone buzzes on the table beside me.

Unknown number.

My stomach drops.

The screen lights up with an accusation.

I don’t open it.

I don’t give it oxygen.

Instead, I press my pencil harder to the page.

Another buzz.

I flip the phone face down.

You don’t get to ruin this too.

I sketch shading along the fox’s back. Tiny carved lines in the moon. I start mapping where color could go without overwhelming the wood.

I don’t even know if Millie would be interested, but I want to bring her something finished. A plan.

Evan wanders back out, hair rumpled from sleep, rubbing his eyes with childish exaggeration.

“Can I draw too?” he asks.