his own devices

Tolliver is basically either playing outside, or dreaming about playing outside. 

Aside from using his iPod to solve the day's Wordle puzzle (as soon as it goes live, right at 7am) he has very little interest in screen time, focusing instead on what needs to be done before he goes out - piano practice and putting away dishes or laundry. He asks Siri every morning about the weather, irritated with the same cold response she provides before resuming Tuck's jazz listening or the Encanto soundtrack. Lately, most days, Tollie puts on a coat anyway. 

Left to his own devices, he collects tools from the shed, chipping at ice with a rubber mallet, tying knots or shaping nails or sanding sticks. More often than not the neighborhood gang shows up; they default to hide and seek or cooperate to enhance the nearby fort. Their noises (blasting sounds and descending missile squeals) penetrate the exterior, just a pitch above Siri's pleasant background volume. 

Occasionally Tolliver comes to the door for a snack or fresh gloves, his fingers frozen and cheeks bright pink. His ability to disconnect, to be in the world in a way technology just can't duplicate, is - while admittedly confounding in such cold - enviable.