For Father’s Day I got to sleep late and wake to a box with a cicada and a bunch of flowers in it. And a popsicle maker. Good day, all around.

Pa-

Abe,
I took you to the Unturned shop for the first time last weekend. A freight train rolled by while we were hanging out and the engineer tooted the horn at you. In the shop you ran from place to place saying, “Look at that!” and “What’s this all about?” You watched Jesse working on one of his chicken tractors. You wore ear plugs while he cut tin with a grinder. You liked the sparks. And you practiced hammering on some roofing nails.

Pa-

Abe,
A few weeks ago, on a rainy day, you and I built a sandbox in the backyard. I sawed the wood and we took turns hammering the nails. You spend a lot of time out there, with your shovels and spoons, with your bull dozers and dump trucks. You Momma and I watch you through the kitchen window as you build and rebuild the world.

Pa-

Abe,
Last week your Aunt Betty gave you a bunch of tall sticks and some twine. We added a sheet and some clothes pins and you had your first tipi. Shortly after it was done, you had toys and favorite catalogs tucked away in there. It’s a cozy pad.

The butterfly exhibit at the Nature Center has come to a close. We visited at least four times and even brought your cousins there. This last time, the owls were out in the middle of the day, looking imperiously around. You and your Mama watched them through the fence. I love how you identify them. “Owl-whoo-whoo,” you say, name and sound linked as a single concept. You do that with movement too, so that when you say,”Coloring,” you are scribbling in air. It’s such a complete language.

Here we are, the trio.

Pa-