“You do?” he asks with wide eyes.
“Yep. I have lots of tractors actually.” I pause briefly, then continue, “Maybe I can show you someday?”
He smiles when I hand it back.
“Yeah!” he shouts loudly, causing Chelsea and me to laugh. “I’m thirsty.”
I swallow hard, not sure how to interact with a two-and-a-half-year-old. This feels like some weird reality show, and I’m waiting for Ashton Kutcher to come out and say “You just got punk’d!” But now that I see Dawson, as scary as it sounds, a part of me wants it to be true.
Chelsea walks into the kitchen, then returns with a sippy cup of water and hands it to Dawson.
“What do you say?” She gives him a pointed look.
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“You’re welcome, baby.” She glances at me, then lowers herself to Dawson’s eye level. “My friend and I are g
