What’s up with Joy being so nice to me? I’m not a baby. Or crippled. Just got a broken arm. And that’s almost better. Going to get my cast off in two weeks.
I hope.
Yeah, she asks me if I want to do something all the time. Along with Mom, who seems to think that Chips Ahoy knit bones.
Although they do taste pretty good dipped in milk.
“Not hungry,” I told Mom this afternoon when she shook the cookie bag again.
Then I felt bad because she got that look. You know, the one like a dog gets when you stop playing catch? I almost grabbed one to eat right there in the family room, but Dad walked in and I pulled my hand back.
Dad likes strong boys. Not softies that eat cookies all day.
Dad cleared his throat, ruffled my hair. “Hey, kiddo, almost ready to get back on the court?”
I nodded; to
