I can't let him know that his dad is 36 years old and doesn't have a clue how to do this alone.
So we walk.
That day, the sky was that pale blue that looks washed out. A few other families were out, along with the usual assortment of couples walking dogs and joggers with earbuds.
It was a perfectly normal day, until it wasn't.
Those moments gut me every time, but I can't let Mark see that.
We were halfway around the lake when he stopped so suddenly that I almost bumped into him.
Advertisement
"Mark?"
He didn't answer. He was staring down into the grass like he'd spotted buried treasure. Then he crouched, reached out, and pulled something free from the weeds.
A teddy bear.
He stopped so suddenly that I almost bumped into him.
And not just any teddy bear — this thing was disgusting.
The fur was matted and muddy, one eye was missing, and there was a big rip in its back. It looked like the stuffing was lumpy and dry.
Advertisement
Anyone else would have left it there, but Mark clutched it tight against his chest.
"Buddy," I crouched beside him, "it's dirty. Really dirty. Let's leave it, okay?"
His fingers tightened around the bear.
Mark clutched it tight against his chest.
"We can't leave him. He's special."
His breathing changed. I saw that look in his eyes — the faraway, "about to cry, but trying so hard not to" look that broke me every single time.
Advertisement
"Alright. We'll take him home."
When we got back, I spent an hour cleaning that bear. Maybe longer.
"We can't leave him."
It would've gone faster if I'd soaked the teddy, but Mark asked if he'd be able to sleep with it that night.
To ensure it would dry fast enough, I avoided getting it too wet.
I soaped it up, gave it a good scrub, then used the wet and dry vacuum to suck up all the dirt. It took a couple of passes before it looked clean.
For complete cooking steps, go to the next page or click the Open button (>), and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends
