on sunbeams and underwater handstands and cuttlebones

Noticing trends in my inbox around exercise snacking and touching grass and conflict entrepreneurs, I wondered whether, when nothing else is going on and the boredom turns into bothering, this will translate into trouble later? It's not like Tolliver is acting hostile or is hunkered down in his own opinion, and maybe, hopefully, these brotherly micro-aggressions will lead him into a future of understanding himself and others a little better? Regardless, he regularly interrupts the spiral with unexpected acts of kindness - like bringing home from the Hop extra lollipops to share, a single sunbeam of mercy.

Also catching headlines - and real feels - is the heat. So we've been at the pool as often as possible, which means the constant, universal refrain of Watch me! Plus "please judge my underwater handstand" and all of the delightful voguing that happens around it, the eventual What score would you give that, I won't be mad, like nine out of ten or just eight? And also from Hank, the inevitable Wait, I messed up, lemme do it again. What if that could stay with him, could mature as he does, the perseverant idea of "I think I can do better, may I try again?"

I've been guilty of giving Tuck a little bit of a hard time for being absent minded, brilliant but forgetful. He packed for an overnight in Hocking Hills last winter and forgot... pants. But there's a cuttlefish bone on top of the turtle tank in the garage that nudges me to acknowledge he's thoughtful and observant, just not in the ways I initially define as most relevant. I don't remember where the cuttle came from, maybe Tybee Island or the anchor beach in southern Portugal. What's pertinent is Tucker noticed the turtle's shell felt soft and recalled reading that the ocean souvenir is a good source of calcium, so every day he shaves bits into the aquarium as supplement. And his summer homework - three papers - are not due till the first week of August, so don't worry yet, there's plenty of time.