Page 142 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“Oh,” he says. “I’m very busy.”

He’s astonishing.

By the time we’re ready, Evan has insisted on wearing rain boots even though the sky is aggressively blue. He calls them his “adventure stompers.”

We head toward Main Street at a pace that is ninety percent enthusiasm and ten percent tripping over his own feet.

He waves at literally everyone.

Mrs. Hargrove gets a two-handed wave and a shout of, “Hi, Miss Hargrove!”

Fern gets a solemn nod. “We ‘sploring,” he explains.

Tess, dragging crates into The Mile Marker, bends down and says, “Find anything good?”

Evan holds up a leaf excitedly. “Treasure.”

“Wow,” Tess says seriously. “That’s premium treasure.”

He beams.

We cut through the little park near the river. Evan runs ahead, then stops abruptly because he’s seen a worm.

He crouches down so fast he almost face plants.

“Hi, worm,” he whispers. “Don’t be scared. I’m nice.”

I kneel beside him. “You think he’s scared?”

“Maybe,” he says thoughtfully. “He’s little.”

We leave the worm in peace and continue toward the river path, which takes approximately ten minutes longer than it should because Evan stops every five steps.

Stick? Wizard staff.

Rock? Moon.

Puddle? Ocean.

He narrates everything in a breathless stream of consciousness that only five-year-olds can manage.

“And then the fish says hi, and then the turtle has glasses, and then I jump, and I don’t fall and then…”

He jumps.

He falls.

He pops back up immediately.

“I did it,” he says proudly.

“You absolutely did.”

At the river, he insists on taking off his boots by himself. It takes a full two minutes and lots of unnecessary drama.

“It’s hard though,” he declares.

“You’re doing it.”