B was deeply anxious lest Oma begin the corn-shucking process before he got up from his nap. She promised to wait for him, and when he came downstairs he marched outside, very big indeed, to tackle the task.

This boy loves corn on the cob. He quizzes me when I mention that we’re having corn with dinner: “What kind of corn, Mama? The big kind? Like this?” And he spreads his hands to approximate the length of an ear of corn. If I say yes, he beams.

He worked methodically and correctly. He is serious about the proper way of doing things, which is probably a trait he gets from me. His Daddy is an efficiency machine, but I insist on doing things the same way (the right way, of course–ahem) every time.

Glowing with pride as the fruits of his labors begin to appear. He ate those fruits with relish, too.