When Jillie steps from the bench toward the rubber mat, he offers his hand before she asks.
When a group of kids race past too quickly, he shifts slightly between them and her.
When she asks if she can see where he sits during games, he doesn't tell her no or later or maybe.
He points.
"Right there."
"That one?"
"That one."
"It looks cold."
"It is cold."
"Do you get snacks?"
"Not usually."
She frowns. "That seems like poor planning."
"I've said the same thing for years."
Toby appears with a small Blizzards jersey.
"Speaking of planning."
Jillie loses the ability to form words.
She clutches it to her chest, eyes huge.
"Mine?"
"Yours."
"It has Colby's number."
Colby looks at him.
Toby's expression is pure innocence.
"What? She has taste."
Jillie pulls the jersey on over her sweater immediately. It hangs nearly to her knees.
She spins.
"Mom! Look!"
I smile before I can stop myself.
"I see."
"You need one too."
"Absolutely not."
