“That’s for your new bicycle,” I said carefully.
“I know.”
“You sure about this?”
“He can’t even get off his porch, Mom.”
I didn’t argue after that.
We went to the hardware store together. My son picked out wood, screws, sandpaper, and tools we didn’t already have.
He asked questions, took notes, and double-checked the measurements.
That wasn’t a kid messing around.
He had a plan.
For three days, Ethan worked on his project.
After school, he dropped his backpack and got straight to it until dark.
Measuring. Cutting.
Adjusting angles. Sanding.
I helped where I could, holding pieces steady or handing him tools, but he led everything.
