We’re sewing the ‘S’ on his shirt right now

“I can’t reach the button! I can’t reeeeeach!!”

“I can help you, Anna.” Nigel’s voice is warm with confidence and assurance. He doesn’t quite push his sleeves up as he approaches, but you can see his wrists twitch with the impulse.

“I can’t reeeeeeach!”

“Here. I will move it.” He steps in, confident (and tall) male, reaches a slender arm up, splays his fingers wide on the glass door of the cabinet, grasps air and pulls down. When his hand comes level with Anna’s nose, he opens his fingers.

“There. Is that better for you?” He is so proud.

Anna’s pudgy finger pokes the new, improved spot on the glass. “Yes. I can reach the button.” She turns a beaming smile on Nigel. “Thank you, Nigel!”

“Get me a button, too, Nigel!” Emily, even shorter than Anna, has joined the children standing gazing into my china cabinet.

Nigel stretches up, far above his head, grasps another bit of air, and pulls. A second “button” is deposited in front of Emily’s nose.

“Thank you, Nigel!” Emily’s voice is rich with delighted satisfaction. (Oh, the unspeakable cuteness of toddlers who use their polite words spontaneously and without prompting. My heart swells within me.)

Nigel’s chest puffs a bit with the satisfaction of being of use to the little ones. Because Nigel? He’s three now. He is Big. The girls are only two. They are Little. It is good to help the Little ones when you are Big.

Even when the buttons are imaginary.