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BJ scoops until he can’t scoop anymore. He pants, his emerald eyes locking on mine. "I’m tired."
I frown as I glance at the work that he’s done, then shake my head when I realize he’s only transferred about a foot of dirt. "You didn’t move the whole mound, boy."
BJ sniffles, clutching his dump truck and shovel tightly. "It’s harder than I thought because my dump truck isn’t big enough."
I drop to one knee and smile. Taking his hand in mine, I squeeze it tight. "Hey, boy. Why don’t we take a treat break and then move the rest of this dirt with a real digger? I’ll steer while you sit on my lap. You’ll get to watch everything."
BJ crashes into my arms, hugging me so tightly I nearly fall backward. Just kidding. I’m made of concrete like every good Daddy should be. "That sounds awesome!"
I clutch BJ’s hand as I lead him toward the trailer. My heart brims with excitement, because I know that it’s packed with working guys. BJ hasn’t seen any of them yet—he’s only chatted to them on my walkie. On this very job site. I told him that they didn’t show up, but I was lying. I’m so bad.
I open the door to my trailer. "In you go."
BJ sniffles as he looks at the steps. "These are working guy steps. I’m a working guy in my mind, but I’m not sure I can climb up them."
I lift him by the back of his coveralls again, which is easy for me. I decide to spin him in a circle before leading him into the trailer.
"You’re an airplane, boy."
BJ closes his eyes and flaps his arms, pretending he’s flying over the job site.
Then, I set him on his feet at the top of the steps. "Time for landing."
"That was a short flight."
"That’s because your Daddy is almost seven feet."
I climb up the steps after him. I have the opposite problem—I traverse all of them in a single step, more or less. Okay, I’m slightly exaggerating, but that’s what it feels like and everybody knows that’s what matters most when you’re a Daddy to a playful boy.
I crack open the trailer door.
"Surprise!"
Ten working guys in blue overalls greet BJ. They wear hardhats, steeltoed boots, reflective vests, and they all smile.
Two in the back come through with the box of doughnuts. "You must be our newest crew member. Boss man arranged a very special surprise for you, yes he did. He said we couldn’t eat a single doughnut until you showed up because they were to welcome you to your first day of work."
BJ looks at the working guys. Then at the doughnuts which are shaped like yellow dump trucks. Then at me.
He bursts into tears as he hugs my thigh. "Oh, Daddy! This is better than I dreamt of. I’m a real working guy, I really am."
I laugh as I pinch his cheek. "You sure are."
"All those years ago when my mother and I delivered doughnuts to the working guys, I never thought that someday, working guys would deliver doughnuts to me!"
One plump working guy taps his foot on the ground. "I sure wish you’d eat a doughnut so we can dig in."
Another nods in agreement. "I’m hungry."
Other working guys would tell a joke like, That’s because your wife forgot to pack your lunch today but my working guys are too respectful to make jokes like that.
I pick up a doughnut and hold it out to BJ. "Here you go, boy."
BJ shakes his head. "No. You feed me."
There’s a little collection of chocolate "dirt" on the back of the doughnut. The pastry shop that I hired really came through.
I "lift" up the dumper part of the doughnut as BJ opens his mouth, and I "pour" the chocolate onto his tongue.
