“Beckham, do you think that you’ll ever want to get married one day?”  I glance in the rearview mirror at the boy being swallowed by his booster seat.
Beckham lets out a boyish laugh that shakes the whole car, “Yes, a course I’m gettin’ murried.” 
“Who are you going to marry?  What’s she going to be like?”  Approaching a red light, the car stops, and I watch his reflection in the mirror.
He puts his index finger to his chin and shakes his head.  “Uhh…uhh, well, she’s going to have a ponytail.”  He chuckles his happy-go-lucky chuckle again.   His hands fly into the air and hit the inside roof of the car, “And she’s going to have purple hair!”
The light turns green.
“A purple ponytail, huh?  Good choice.  Is she going to be nice, funny, sarcastic, or what?”  We’re almost to school now; I hate sharing him for so long.
“Sarcastic?  What’s that?”  His eyebrows furrow and his lips poke out in frustration.  He hates when he doesn’t understand something.
“Look it up when you get to school, kid.  I’ll give you a hint, though.  Sarcasm is your mommy’s second language.”  He lets out a sigh, but then laughs again when he realizes that he can’t maintain a serious disposition.  “I’ll give you some examples after school, and we’ll see if you can figure out what it means.  Sound good, Killa?”
We circle into the drop-off zone at the elementary school, and he unbuckles his seatbelt.  He throws a fist pump into the air, “Beast!”
I put the car in park and turn around to face Beckham.  “All right Beast, get out of my car.  Have a good day at school, and pay attention!  Oh, and you better come home on green today.  Do you hear me?” 
He smiles a devious smile and stumbles out of the car.  “Yes, Miss Gwace, I hear ya.”  He slams the door carelessly, and waves goodbye in my direction, running off between the double doors.
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There’s a field in the country where we come to pass time.  Beckham’s mom and I always find something to talk about while her other two kids roughhouse in the untamed grass.  The field is clear and open, only one tree rooted right in the middle, interrupting the openness.  It’s remarkable, though; the tree.  If we get here early enough, the sun shines on the tops of the branches, giving them a golden polish.  The branches are steady, and the base is rooted with a solid foundation.  It may be bare, but it is the most able-bodied tree that we’ve ever seen.
Sitting side by side in the grass, our hands behind us for support, we keep tabs on Reece and Kipp who are trying their best to climb the tree.  The branches are convoluted and never-ending, too high for either of them to reach.  The breeze is cool and crisp; it smells like autumn.
“I could spend all of eternity watching them play here.”  Lynn scoots her knees into her chest and lets her chin rest in her hands, her gaze unbreakable.
“We could come here every day, if you want.”  I glance in her direction, noticing that her smile is slowly disappearing.
Kipp is giving little Reece a boost as high as his arms will allow him towards the branches.  Reece is still a few feet away from the lowest limb. 
Lynn lies back in the grass that’s mixed with copper undertones, not minding the few stray pieces collecting in her disheveled hair.  “I won’t be able to come here every day for much longer; in just a few years, this won’t be the same.  You know that.”
I lean back, aligning the top of my head with hers.  We can hear Kipp and Reece in the distance, babbling on and on in toddler talk trying to solve the puzzle that is tree climbing.  “Then embrace it while you can; enjoy it while you can.  Live in the present.  At least, that’s what the Pinterest quotes tell me.”
We both laugh.  Lynn is picking pieces of grass and tearing them carefully in half.  She takes her prescription out of her purse.  “You’re right.”  Her voice trails off, and lingers.  She wants to add more, but she doesn’t. 
I reach my arms over my head and flick brunette hair out of her face playfully, “I’m always right.”  I sit back up and check on the boys.  Kipp has abandoned helping Reece into the tree, and instead has wrapped his arms and legs around the bottom of the trunk, scrunching his body trying to propel himself upward.
“My kids are a mess.”  Lynn sits up and crosses her legs in an Indian-style fashion, and continues to pick at the grass. 
“I’ll grab em’.”  I caper to my feet and meet the two boys at the base of the tree.
“Up! Up!” Kipp reaches his arms above his head in my direction, and Reece who always imitates his big brother, does the same. 
Grabbing Kipp first, I boost him to the lowest branch, and he grips it with determination.  Reece starts to cry, opening and closing his hands in the air towards me, so I scoop him up and place him on the branch alongside his monkey brother.
Beckham is double-timing towards my car as quickly as his legs will take him.  His Lightning McQueen backpack is taking over his entire body, bobbing up and down with each surge.  I unlock my back doors, and the teacher manning the car line opens the door for him.
He’s smiling, but looking down at the floorboard.  “What did you do, Beckham?”  I wait for him to get buckled before pulling onto the road.
I look to the rearview mirror and his eyes are averted from mine.  “Nuffing…”  He drops his backpack into the floorboard under his feet.
“Well if you didn’t do anything, why aren’t you looking at me, Air Bender?”  I pause and allow him to think.  He doesn’t say anything.  “What color were you on today?”
He whacks the heels of his palms on his face, and I pull over on a side road.  I put the car in park, and turn around to stop him.  I grab his hands and reveal his face, tears streaming down his cheeks.  “Don’t hit yourself, Beckham.  If you didn’t have a good day, we’ll deal with it.  Now, what color were you on?”
He looks out the window, and kicks the back of the passenger seat.  Throwing his hands up in the air he shouts, “YELLOW!”  He starts to hit himself again. 
I take his hands, “You’re okay.  Calm down.  We’ll be on green tomorrow.”  He looks at me for only a split second; he has trouble with maintaining eye contact. 
“Please don’t tell Daddy.”  He sobs and hides his face under the sleeves of his jacket. 
“Why were you moved to yellow?”  I’m controlling his arms, urging him to look at me. 
He sobs again, “I told a girl her toy played baby music when we had show and tell.”  His eyes are puffy from crying.
“Why would you say something like that, Beckham?” 
“I wasn’t trying to be mean, Miss Gwace.  Please don’t tell Daddy.”  He’s bawling now.
“We won’t tell Daddy.  It’ll be our secret.”  I wink at him, and he stops crying for a moment.  I know his dad would never hurt him, but Bennett hates to disappoint him.  The PTSD gets the best of his dad sometimes, and when it does, he has to leave the house.
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After work, I head over to Lynn’s house.  It’s on my way home.  Her husband Nathan isn’t home yet, and he usually isn’t off of work in time for dinner.  It’s probably for the best.
I have a key, and she always expects me after work, so I walk in.  Lynn gets annoyed when I knock first.  I’m greeted at the door by the family dog, Zeek.  I walk through the living room, into the dining room where Beckham, Kipp, and Reece are working on drowning themselves in a sea of spaghetti.  The three are covered from head to toe in tomato sauce.  Reece, especially though.  I’m not sure if he really knows where his mouth is.  He’ll need a bath for sure.
Kipp sees me first, and shouts, “Miss Gwace! Sit next to me!” 
Beckham winks at me, signaling that we still have a deal.
“You want some, Mama?”  Lynn addresses me with a bowl of spaghetti.
I shake my head and pick up Kipp, taking his seat, and replacing his seat with my lap.  “No, thanks.  I’m going to make something when I get home.  Are the dorks behaving?”  I smile at the three who have painted the table with meat and crimson colored sauce.
“Ha! The usual.”  Lynn spins the noodles on her own fork, propped against the counter in the kitchen, while the kids eat at the table.  Reece climbs over onto my lap, forcing Kipp to sit on one leg. 
“Airplane! Airplane!”  Kipp shouts, and hands me his kiddy-sized fork.  It has Lightning McQueen on it. 
I grab the fork, and spin noodles around it, making airplane noises as I circle it towards his mouth.  His mouth is gaping, an easy target to land an airplane.  I land it, and he claps his hands together.  His brother, Reece, wants me to do the same, so I do.
“Um, you’re coming for dinner every night this week, right?”  Lynn looks exhausted, but amused. “They eat when you’re here.”
I turn around and smile, holding both of the younger boys on my lap.  “Of course.  I thought that I lived here anyways.” 
Beckham finishes his bowl of spaghetti and gets up to put it in the sink.  “Mommy, you look tired.  You should go to bed.”  I see her hands trembling at her sides.  “Miss Gwace can tuck us in and give us kisses.”  He hugs Lynn’s legs and looks up at her, waiting for a kiss.
She leans down and kisses his forehead, “You’re my sweet boy.”
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The park is the best way to spend the energy of three boys under the age of six.  It’s a weekly routine.  The same park, too.  They never get tired of it.
“I don’t want to go slow, right Miss Gwace?”  Kipp hangs on to the chains on both sides, facing me.
“Right.”  I pump my legs back and forth, trying to get us as high as possible.  He wants to touch the birds.
“We’re having fun, right Miss Gwace?”  His butt slides towards the ends of my knees, so I push him towards me on the pull.
“Right.”  I smile at him.  His eyes are so blue.  They’re happy eyes, too.  He smiles back at me, and takes his hands off of the chains that we are sharing to wrap them around my neck tightly.
“I love you, right Miss Gwace?”  He puckers his lips on the tops of the pulls, never the pushes, wanting kisses each time.  I kiss him on each pull at the top.
“Right.  And I love you too, Kipp.”  All three boys are good boys.
Lynn is sitting on the bench watching.  She’s smiling and taking pictures of Beckham who’s helping Reece walk up the green slide with the tunnel.  I peel Kipp’s hand off my neck, and tell him to wave to Mommy.
“Hey Mommy!  I love you!  Look at us; we’re flying!”  He’s laughing uncontrollably, and Jen waves back at us.  She takes another picture.  She takes so many pictures.
“I love you too, baby!”  She’s living in the moment.