The next day I stood by the kitchen counter, watching as Kelvin excitedly sifted through a box of cookie cutters Lisa’s mom had brought over the day before. He was bubbling with energy, his small hands carefully laying out each cutter on the counter like they were precious treasures. Stars, bells, snowflakes, and reindeer—each one seemed to fill him with a new wave of excitement.
“I want to make a snowman first,” Kelvin declared, holding up a cutter shaped like two overlapping circles.
I smiled as I wiped my hands on a dish towel. “A snowman sounds perfect,” I said.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. I glanced at Kelvin, whose face lit up with anticipation. “I’ll get it!” he yelled, running toward the door.
“Kelvin, wait—” I began, but it was too late.
Kelvin flung the door ope
