It is approximately 3:30pm on an Average Day. He has finished his painstaking copywork. He has completed his math work. He has even spent some time in leisurely reading. And then I hear it. The rustle of the construction paper. The crisp sound of a tape dispenser. The satisfying snipping of scissors.
He loves that sister of his, yes he does, and he will show her, yes he will.
While she dreams, princess-like, upon our tattered couch, her brother labors.
He prepares packages of odd trinkets he purchased in the Sparks Store at Awana. He draws her pictures and wraps them up. He writes out her beloved capital letters so that she can read them.
And then he sneaks softly into the living room, careful not to awaken her. She is small and the couch is wide, so there is plenty of room for him to carry out his plan. He carefully lines up four messy, brightly-colored packages by her side.
And then he grabs a book and steals into the rocking chair, half reading, half anticipating the moment she awakes.
And then she does! She does awaken! And how satisfying a recipient she is for a Gift Giver like him. Her eyes look to pop out of their places, her squeals are loud enough to wake the baby, her giggles are a river of delight. She tears open each package and loudly proclaims her gratitude. She carries his gifts around for an hour, giving each one the just the right amount of attention.
And then it is five o’clock. He be mean to me, she whines. They’re fighting again. The magic is retired…until tomorrow.
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