Say "cheese"

William this morning asked his mom for a "boy cheese". After he asked a second time, and clarified "not a girl cheese" I understood. He wasn't making a joke -- he meant it sincerely. He just wanted a boy-cheese sandwich, please.

Neighbors

William is riding his bike outside right now. (It's the green and purple one with white tires that our neighbor Steve gave him last year.) William is wearing his yellow fireman jacket; it's still a bit chilly today. He just rode across the drive to our Steve's house. Steve is in a wheelchair (but still quite active).

William set his bike on the ground in front of Steve's house and walked over to the newspaper that was wrapped in a thin, orange plastic bag and lying on the lawn. William picked up the newspaper from off the grass and stepped back onto Steve's front porch.

He just stood there a minute, facing the door, not moving -- looking at the paper, at the porch, at the tall, thin window next to the front door, thinking about where to put the paper. Then he pulled down on the gold handle of the storm door, opened it a little, placed the newspaper inside, and closed the door against it, making sure it would stay put.

Seeing that it wasn't going to fall down, he pushed the doorbell button with his little finger, then got back on his bike to ride away and help Burt's newspaper find the front door, too.