by James Borto
sometin’?”
“Yes, let me show you!” Neil replied quickly.
Neil continued to manipulate the twigs until he had created a series of what resembled tiny, log cabin-like houses. Drew became instantly engrossed.
However, Neil’s construction campaign came to an abrupt halt upon running out of precious building material. This work stoppage immediately disappointed the compulsive toddler.
“More, dad!” Drew cried.
“There are no more, Tiger. These are the last ones,” Neil explained, hoping his sincere rationale would be compelling enough to pacify his demanding foreman.
“Get more, dad,” Drew pleaded.
Neil’s options seemed limited. He had begun this operation and felt obligated now to see it through to the end. He set off on a mission to retrieve more building materials, to keep up with the laws of supply and demand. The expedition was hardly a daunting task, given that with only one slide, two leans, and a series of meager stretches, his effort netted an anticipated huge payoff, his boy’s immediate amusement.
Neil dumped the fresh supply of twigs directly in front of his son, who promptly seized a handful and did his best to add them to the existing structures. Time and again, he would continually knock over more twigs than he was adding, a comedy of errors Neil never tired of. The excitement in the boy’s eyes intensified when his resourceful father successfully attached a fresh layer of twigs to the existing designs. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the fresh batch to run out.
“More sticks, dad,” Drew urged.
“There all done, Tiger.”
“More, dad!” Drew demanded.
Neil put on an exaggerated theatrical display of his attempt at locating additional twigs. He even donned a slight grimace as he brushed his fingers along the surrounding grass.
“The sticks are all gone, Tiger,” Neil sadly declared. He dreaded the idea of getting up and moving further away from his son, knowing how restlessly adventurous Drew was. He feared Drew would make a mad dash towards the pond the moment his back was turned.
“More, daddy!” Drew pleaded in desperation. He was masterful at playing on Neil’s heartstrings. As if his beseeching tone wasn’t sufficient enough, Drew followed up with the magical word: “Peeze!”
How could Neil ever deny that adorable face, with those tiny teeth and elongated bangs shifting about? How could he censor his boy’s words, after they were delivered in that delightful voice of his? He felt duty-bound to make the most of this glorious day, to make it one for the ages.
“Alright, I’ll get more sticks, but you have to stay here. You can’t move from this spot, okay?!” Neil demanded.
Drew’s eyes sparkled with giddy anticipation.
“OK, dad,” Drew exuberantly replied.
Neil knew that his son readily stuck to compromises of this nature, provided there was a sufficient payoff. The enabling father stood up from his resting spot, leaving a deep impression of his body on the thick, silky grass. He limited his search to the sight radius of an imaginary circle encompassing his eager boy of no further than a few meters. Neil calculated how that would be adequate distance to grab his son, if he decided to make an impulsive rush to the water’s edge.
With every discovery of a fresh twig, more anxious energy stirred within the toddler. Drew’s unbridled giddiness and fervent hand clapping were a surprising joy for Neil to witness. He felt encouraged to keep the endeavor going and rewarded Drew by gathering additional twigs, far more than he had originally planned on seizing.
Neil wandered behind his son, who turned his head and then his body as far as he could stretch them. Neil’s new bundle necessitated the use of both hands to carry back. He laid the twigs directly in front of his eagerly awaiting boy, who wasted no time in piling onto the structures his dad had already erected. Neil was taken aback by his son’s prompt alacrity, and he enjoyed watching him take to the building process. He was especially amused at seeing his boy continue to knock down more pieces than he was actually stacking. In time, however, Drew would detect his dad’s idleness.
“Help me, dad,” he pleaded, in his persuasive voice. Naturally, Neil felt compelled to comply. However, he deliberately fumbled around with the fabrication process in order to delay the additional pursuits of twigs.
The harvesting of twigs and erecting of diminutive log cabins had continued for well over an hour. It could have easily persisted for days if Drew had the final say so. When Neil finally checked his watch, he discovered it was nearly five o’clock; dinner time was looming. Once again, Neil rose from his spot, leaving another sizable impression in the grass. He swatted the back of cargo shorts.
“OK, Drew, it’s time to go,” Neil informed his son.
“No go home, dad,” Drew promptly responded, without making eye contact.
“We have to… Mommy’s waiting. If we don’t go, Mommy’s going to be sad,” Neil delicately implored.
“Mommy be sad?” Drew queried, matching his father’s tone.
“Yeah, she misses us. And she made dinner for us.”
“I wan’ play sticks, dad.”
“But we have to go, Tiger. The park is going to close.”
Drew had a semi-developed comprehension of what the word “close” meant. It was a term his parents often deployed when they hoped to avoid stopping at McDonald’s or some other enticing establishment the toddler relished.
“Okay,” Drew quipped, with a trace of disappointment on his face. He stood himself up.
“That’s a good boy,” praised Neil.
Drew, however, was oblivious to his father’s praise and made a bee-line for the pile of twigs. Neil watched in amusement as his son grabbed as many twigs as his tiny hands could clamp onto. Each time a twig or two would slip from Drew’s grip, the toddler would simply bend over and attempt to retrieve the evasive sticks. Inevitably, even more twigs would slip from his grasp.
Neil failed to bridle a chuckle.
“What’re you doing, Tiger?”
“I wan’ sticks come with,” Drew explained, without stopping his gathering process of the wayward twigs.
His son’s objective was equally as amusing as his actions, however unrealistic. Once again, dad turned to the fine art of reasoning with a toddler.
“We can’t take them home, Tiger, they’re dirty.” Neil was convinced the word “dirty” would dissuade Drew’s aspirations.
“Not dirty, dad,” Drew stoically replied. He didn’t miss a beat with the task of garnering his mighty collection.
Feeling virtually powerless, Neil stood by and watched his son proceed to load the orphaned twigs into the stroller, within the storage area beneath the seat. This immediately raised a serious quandary. Bringing twigs inside the house wouldn’t exactly sit too well with Paige. Although she wasn’t a neat freak, she kept a clean dwelling. Doing so was obviously a challenge, considering she had to contend with both Neil and a rambunctious toddler.
Neil felt it was time to lay down the law and apply a stern vocal objection. The approach had proved effective previously, when he pulled Drew away from the swings of the playground.
“Tiger, these sticks are dirty! We can’t take them home because mommy’s going to get mad.” Neil stated as he proceeded to unload the twigs onto the grass.
“No do dat!” Drew screamed. After an extended, mean look of disapproval towards his father, the toddler proceeded to retrieve the discarded twigs. He then promptly reloaded them back into his stroller. Neil was provided a final look of warning from his boy.
“But mommy’s gonna get mad!” Neil reiterated.
“Mommy no get mad,” Drew assured him.
Neil smiled as he shook his head in sheer disbelief at his son’s stubbornness. What was he to do? He certainly wasn’t a strict disciplinarian. But if he allowed Drew to take the twigs home, Paige would most certainly give him a stern lecture on not letting the boy get his way ALL THE TIME. He checked the immediate area to see if there was a sympathetic audience. Someone else
should have been privy to this exchange.
A soothing thought soon pacified Neil’s anxiety. Why not give in, for now? Drew had a tendency to doze off in the stroller, particularly after long afternoons in the park. With an immanent nap on the horizon, dispensing of the twigs promised to be a cinch.
“Okay, Tiger, let’s go.” Neil declared as he lifted his son up and placed him in the stroller. Drew sat there with a smug grin on his face and a sizable collection of twigs in his possession. A smaller collection sat atop his front tray, with the bulk of them stacked at his feet. Drew had won this battle in convincing fashion, and he knew it.
When the front door swung open, Drew was the first to enter with his arms flailing, as he bounced down the hallway on his way towards the kitchen. Neil entered soon after and carefully set the folded stroller up against the hallway wall. Paige then emerged from the kitchen doorway and bent over with her arms outstretched for her jubilant son. Drew’s face lit up elatedly. He immediately lunged into his mom’s open embrace. Paige buoyantly lifted her boy in the air and planted a loving kiss on his forehead. She then proceeded to pepper a series of kisses on both of his cheeks in rapid succession. Her exhilaration quickly faded, when she spotted the extensive collection of twigs Drew was clutching tightly is his left hand. She snapped her attention towards Neil.
“What’s the deal with those?” she asked Neil, with piercing reproach.
“Don’t ask,” Neil dejectedly replied. “I tossed away as many as I
