After his piano lesson, With-a-Why and I stopped at the pizza place so he could run in and grab a slice of pizza. He’s growing fast, rapidly catching up to his tall father and older brothers, and he’s at the age when he’s always hungry.
The parking lot is small, so I pulled up in front and waited in the car while he took a few dollars and went in. The breeze caught his waist-length hair as he walked. It’s fine, silky hair, black against his pale skin.
When he came out, he looked kind of puzzled. He shook his hair back so that he could devour the pizza slice.
“The guy in there called me sir,” he said. “That’s weird. People usually think I’m a girl.”
“Not any more,” I said. “You’re getting too tall. And your features are changing.”
“I don’t know how I feel about being called sir,” he said. “I was almost offended.”