Page 34 of Wrapped Up in Christmas Hope
The your dog had Andrew smiling. The kid already had him owning a dog.
“She is, isn’t she?” he agreed. He’d always liked his grandmother’s friend Claudia. “Your mom is nice, too.”
Greyson nodded. “She reads me stories. I get two a night.”
“Two? That’s awesome.” Andrew made sure to look impressed. Actually, he truly was impressed at what a great job Morgan did. “What type of stories does she read?”
“One Bible story,” the boy held up one gloved finger, then a second, “and one story I get to pick.”
Andrew could see that about Morgan: that she’d want her son to have a strong sense of faith.
“Have a favorite?”
Taking the Frisbee Harry had returned to him and giving it another fling for the dog to go chasing after, Greyson told him about the story of a hungry caterpillar.
“Mommy reads it like it’s me who is hungry and eating everything.” The boy giggled, obviously recalling some special memory. “It’s really funny when she does that.”
An image of Morgan making the boy laugh popped into his head and had him trying to see himself there with them. He didn’t fit into the picture...and it astonished him how much he wished he did.
“This week we’ve been reading Christmas stories. Grammy really likes Christmas books and has bunches on her shelf.” Greyson took the Frisbee from Harry and patted the dog on the head. “Good boy.”
Andrew knew what the kid meant. His grandma had lots of Christmas books on her bookshelves, too. He had fond memories of her having read him many, if not all, of them.
“I like the one about the snowman and a magic hat. I’ve never built a snowman.” Greyson glanced toward him. “Have you?”
“Oh, yeah.” Andrew grabbed hold of his jacket collar and straightened it in a cliché move. “I’m practically an expert snowman builder.”
“Maybe, if it snows, you can teach me how,” Greyson suggested, his eyes big and full of hope. “Like you did with sewing. Building a snowman is a basic life skill, too, right?”
Something happened in Andrew’s chest again. Something that had him wishing he could drive Greyson and Morgan to the nearest place with snow, so they could build a snowman together right away.
“Definitely a necessary basic life skill.” Taking the Frisbee from Harry, Andrew gave it a long fling and said, “I’d like that.”
As he watched Harry take off after the Frisbee and catch it mid-air, it stunned Andrew just how much he really would like to teach Greyson how to build a snowman.
And a bazillion other things, too.
Grammy carried a stack of material she’d sewn and set it down at where Morgan was helping pin blocks together.
“Morgan, darling, you should get Greyson home. The poor thing is completely tuckered out.”
Morgan glanced at where Greyson had fallen asleep while lying on a blanket on the floor next to Harry. Boy and dog were curled next to each other and Greyson’s arm was flung over Harry.
“You’re right, but he looks content there, doesn’t he?” Morgan’s heart squeezed. Once they were in their own place, adopting a dog into their family would be a top priority. “Plus, I hate to leave when there’s still so much to be done.”
“There’s always more to be done, but just look at how much we’ve gotten accomplished today.” Grammy gestured to the multiple finished quilt tops, sandwiched quilts, and fully completed quilts. “You’ve been here all day. Go home, get Greyson ready for bed, and relax for a while. Maybe take a bubble bath. You worked a lot of hours this week and deserve a bit of a break.”
A bubble bath sounded heavenly, and she probably should get Greyson bathed and to bed so he wouldn’t be falling asleep during church in the morning. Morgan smiled at her grandmother.
“Thanks, Grammy.” She kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at home later.”
Morgan gathered up all of Greyson’s things, put them in her car, started the engine so it could warm up, then went to where he was asleep.
Harry’s eyes opened and he peered up at her in question.
“I know, Harry. You’re quite comfy, and I’m about to disturb you. Sorry, but it’s time for me to get this little guy home.”
Kneeling down, she contemplated on how best to get him up. She hated to wake him, but lifting his sleeping body from the floor by herself wouldn’t be an easy feat. He was growing up so fast. Too fast. Time be still.
