Ben
Jacob stood in Mom’s doorway waiting for me when I arrived. His backpack hung from Mom’s hand while she stood behind him and watched me walk from the Jeep up the driveway. I’d already told her not to give Jacob breakfast because I had a treat in store for him. I knew he’d love it because it was his favorite after chicken and rice. This was different, though, this was breakfast. There was only one place which “cut the mustard” in Jacobs' eyes.
I strapped him into his car seat, which I’d returned to its rightful place right after taking Travis to the hospital. I’d also cleaned the inside of the Jeep yesterday afternoon because it was hard to guess what Travis might’ve sat in while he skulked up the back alley. Jacob sang, or mumbled words which made no sense. He asked a few times where
