I sat down on the edge of the couch.
“Come here.”
“I’m not in trouble?”
“Not until you explain what’s going on.”
***
Julian traveled two or three times most months for work. Sometimes two nights. Sometimes four. Occasionally longer.
Toby had always seemed to handle it beautifully.
Julian traveled two or three times most months for work.
He helped Julian pack, counted socks, waved during airport calls, and never asked him to stay.
I’d been proud of him for it. Maybe too proud.
“How long have you been making Travel Dad?”
Toby studied the rug.
“This one?”
I took a half-step back.
“What do you mean, this one?”
“How long have you been making Travel Dad?”
“The first one was bad, Mom.”
I stared at him.
He hurried to explain.
“The legs kept bending.”
“When did you make this one?”
“Today. I wanted to dismantle him before you came home.”
