“Mowee! It’s my turn! Wet me swing!” says a little boy with dark, wavy hair and green eyes that match my own.
“But you just had a turn!” a little version of me yells at him, not about to let him have a turn.
“That was hours ago! Dad says you have to share wif me,” he says, crossing his arms and pouting.
“Fine, you big baby,” I tell him and move so he can have a turn. He sticks himself through the hole of the tire and kicks off, swinging back and forth, squealing with joy.
This isn’t fair, I think. I sneak up behind him, get a running start and jump on top of his back, pulling myself through the tire with him.
“Mowee! It’s my turn! You have to wait,” he says, giggling.
“We can swing together, Andy” I tell him, giggling along.
“My name is Andrew, not Andy.”
“I like to ca
