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From a mile up the farm road, Hank saw two other kids who were playing in a fort in this hedgerow. I let him out of the truck, and this is what happened. Happy Hank. |
He runs like he's living on the set of the zombie movie "28 Weeks Later." The boy doesn't stop. But at four years old, he's started doing more than just running. While he almost never stops, he now runs to find things (and other kids). He collects things. He tries to understand where things come from, where they go, and why they are where they are. He has the attention span of a cricket, but his curiosity and his mind are now moving his body around more than his desire to "just go."
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We put the kids to work dragging cedar limbs down the hill, down the pier, to wait for the duck boat. All for the promise of a boat ride, which they received (and behaved during!!!) |
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In a rare moment never before captured on film, two small boys sit and talk quietly on a beached boat. No one was punching anyone, and no one threw anyone's shoes in the water. |
He's a boy in every typical and stereotypical sense of the world. He is brave and anxious, wise in general but foolish in the moment, and he has a constant thirst for more adventure and more information. He'll turn down ocean-fresh tuna but loves street vendor hot dogs. He's a boy.
For every day outside with Hank, I need another day to recover mentally and physically. He runs flat-out for about 17 hours a day, absolutely every single day. But I wouldn't trade it for the kid who wants to play video games all day and whose parents are already losing touch. Nope. I have my boy. And for awhile, the world can't share him. You'll get him soon enough.
And sometimes, he really does sleep.
But don't worry. He'll eventually wake, and you won't catch him. Until he finds a dead crab, at least.