I trudge up four flights of stairs in my new business casual slacks. I knock on the door, and drop to one knee. Ethan answers, smiling tiny ear to tiny ear.
I reach out my arms and say, “Can I have a hug?” He pauses shyly, the dashes into my arms.
Later, he is seated in Chris’ lap, the epicenter of five adult’s gaze. I ask, “Where are your toes?” He touches his toes. I ask, “Where are you ears?” He touches his ears. I run through belly button, eyes, knees — he knows em all. I throw him a wrench.
“Ethan, where is your heart?”
He taps on his chest and smiles, tiny ear to tiny ear.