up dates ahead of time, play, and go home. With him, I was already fighting the urge to ask him if he wanted to bring more of his things over here so we could spend all his free time together. He came to life when he was little, and it was a shame to think there were times when that wouldn’t be feasible.
“Okay.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer I’d expected. I watched as he went back to the paper he was writing. Every once in a while, he’d pause, scroll back, scowl and shake his head, then start typing again. Even though he had the entire internet available to him, he still relied on the papers scattered all over the table.
I got up and started digging through the cupboards to find something suitable for dinner. I wanted it to be little-friendly so I wouldn’t pull him out of the happy space he’d found. The closest I had all the ingredients for was spaghetti, so that would have to do. As I started browning the meat and boiling water for the pasta, I considered how he’d react if I pulled out his special bowl and silverware. And little boys liked to get messy, so he’d definitely need a bib.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I shook my head, unaware I’d actually been looking at him. I’d been lost inside my imagination, pleased with myself for coming up with a meal that was bound to get him messy once I cut down his noodles into bite sized pieces. With any luck, we could talk about him sleeping over while we ate, and then I could take him up for bath time and a story before I tucked him in.
“I was just thinking,” I told him. It wasn’t a lie and thinking covered a broad range of topics. “Why don’t you get yourself to a stopping point so you can clean up, and then you can set the table.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bothered pulling out the placemats my sister-in-law swore I 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