unsolicited

1. the small boy wields the shopping cart like a weapon, swerving through the wide dairy aisle with no regard for those in need of butter or yogurt. "that child," i say to the sweetie, "is a monster." the sweetie pushes our own cart over to the milk and the small boy heads straight for us, a shark, a missile. but he stops short of killing us and says loudly, "what team are you voting for?" his face is radiant and seems to float there just above his fingers clutching the cart handle. this is superbowl sunday and i know our choices. steel workers or meat packers. working class icons. there is no wrong answer.

2. the two boys stand in the back stairwell of the bus. the talker is small, small enough he could walk under my outstretched arm. the quiet one, the listener, is taller and is graced with a halo of curls that puts him a foot taller than his companion. the smaller boy is all hypotheticals. "imagine your teacher forgets tomorrow that she gave you detention today." he looks up expectantly at his friend. the unasked question hangs in the air. would you go? the taller child examines his shoes then stares out the window. he is not thinking about whether he would go or not. he is thinking about how best to say what he will say. "i'd go anyway," he says. his words roll out like he is tasting them. "my teacher might remember later. a week or two later she's remember. i'd feel guilty."