School library.
Laundry.
Soccer.
Trash day.
Most squares were filled with ordinary things.
On Friday, Tyler had drawn a tiny bowl with three brown circles inside.
“Ice cream night,” he said.
Officer Bruce looked at me.
“Family tradition?”
“Kind of,” Tyler said with a sigh.
I laughed.
“Friday night, we have ice cream and watch something together.”
On Friday, Tyler had drawn a tiny bowl with three brown circles inside.
Tyler immediately said, “I have ice cream.”
I stared at him.
“You have ice cream?”
He looked up at me.
“You don’t anymore, Mom.”
I folded my arms.
“Tyler, that’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I had some last week.”
“You had two bites because you said you were full.”
“So?”
“You don’t anymore, Mom.”
“You always say you’re full.”
Officer Bruce stood now.
“Yesterday you gave me the big pancake,” Tyler recalled.
“Because you’re growing.”
