Sitting at a traffic light with Hal.
“Mommy! There’s two trucks! Do you see them?”
“Yes, honey, I do.”
“No! Those two trucks over there! They are the same color!”
“Yes, Hal, I see them. They are both gray. One is bigger than the other one. Do you think one is the big brother and the other one is his little brother?”
About then, a large red truck pulls up beside them.
“Look, Mommy! Another truck! It’s a red one!”
“Mm-hm. Is that their sister?”
“No. That’s the daddy.”
“How do you know it’s the daddy and not the sister?”
“Because their sister is dead.”
Our light has turned green. As we pass in front of them, we see a white truck behind the little gray one in the turn lane.
“And the big white truck is the grandpa. And that other one is the mommy.”
“And all the little cars are the grandmas.”
I am trying to not draw too many parallels between our make-believe truck family and Hal’s desires for our real one. Surely he loves his sister. Surely he does.