Now Adam’s always been the little bird of the family. On his eighth birthday I swear I could get my arms twice around him. He picked at his meals—even his favorites.
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Like his brother (and his dad long ago in a galaxy far away) Adam’s growth spurts up and then around: tall and lanky one month, then filling out the next. This typically leaves a week’s gap in which he’s forced to wear around jeans that once hung off of him but now reveal plenty of ankle. |
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Now he’s in an eating stage. No more little bird. Here’s Adam downing a rack of baby backs like they’re nothing. Around the house, things keep disappearing—and not just food either. Farewell, sweet axe. I’ll miss thee. |
