“They ain't disappearing like magic. They're disappearing like when your mama makes some good corn bread and there's nary a piece left at the end.”
“That ain't because of math.” His nose crinkled with his frown. “That's ’cause we're hungry.”
“And your mama cooks real good corn bread.” Kizzie nodded and raised a brow. “But there's math happenin’ too.” She reached over and took a clean sheet of paper from his notebook then ripped it into smaller squares.
“That's what I want to do to my math page every time I see it.”
Kizzie pinched her lips against a chuckle, attempting to show appreciation for the boy's struggle. “Well, I'm pretending our paper is corn bread.”
He nodded. “Then that would be Granny's corn bread, ’cause it kinda tastes like paper.”
Her laugh escaped. “Well, let's pretend it's your mama's corn bread for this example, all right?”
“I ain't gonna eat it.” He crossed his arms. “Especially for math.”
Her laugh burst out again, and it felt good. How long had it been since she'd laughed? And just within a minute she'd done so twice. Maybe she needed more folks like Isaac in her life. “I wouldn't want to eat paper for math's sake either.”
“Good.” He nodded, studying the papers on the table. “But I don't see how we're gonna get math from paper corn bread.”
“You pretend acorns are grenades.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you can dip down in that smart head of yours and pretend paper is corn bread.”
A slight twinkle deepened his dark eyes along with a flicker of a dimple at the corner of his right cheek.
“Now, let's say we got five pieces of corn bread here.” Kizzie counted out five pieces of paper. “And there's the five of y'all wanting the share equally. How many pieces can each person get?”
“I'm giving Daddy that one.” He tapped one of the largest pieces. “ ’Cause he been workin’ all day long and's gotta keep up his strength.”
“That's a fine answer for sure,” Kizzie said. “But no matter the size, it's still just one piece. Size smarts'll come in handy when you're learning fractions.”
“Small folks is faster than big'uns.” He pinched his lips tight at the declaration.
Kizzie's eyes narrowed as she tried to follow the conversational turn. “Usually so.”
“Which means I already got some size smarts.” The glint resurfaced in his eyes. “And I'm faster than Grandpaw.”
Another chuckle bubbled up. “I bet you are, but back to the corn bread. How many pieces does each person get?”
“That's baby math.” He smirked. “Five pieces for five people. Each get one.”
“And …” She placed more pieces with the current papers. “If you have ten pieces of corn bread, how many does each person get?”
“That's baby math too.” He rested his chin on his hand. “Two.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Baby math or not, you just did division.” His dark eyes rounded. “I did not.”
“You sure did. Division is just how numbers are divided by other numbers like how you divided that corn bread for people.” She gestured toward him. “What if your mama made a whole bunch of corn bread. Twenty-five pieces for your family. What then?”
He studied on the idea a minute, murmuring under his breath. “Now four would only get to twenty, wouldn't it?” His face lit. “Five. We'd each get us five.”
“That's right. So it's multiplication backwards.” She nodded, embracing the warmth of doing something to give back to this family who'd done so much for her. “Five times five is—”
“Twenty-five,” he shouted. “Well, I'll be! Itislike multiplication backwards.”
Kizzie grinned and stood as Charlie began to squirm awake against her chest, likely helped on by Isaac's enthusiasm.
“What you say to Miss Kizzie helpin’ you out, boy?”
Kizzie glanced up to find Nella leaning against the doorway, her smile soft.
