The child squealed with delight as he sped around a field in Easton Prairie. It was rare for a day like this, the sun shining down and warming the air while his father agreed to play chase. It wasn’t long until his father caught him around the middle, lifting him up and spinning in circles. The boy screeched with laughter, face alight with happiness and adoration. Dad was the best.
Once down on the ground again, he picked up a stick and ran after his father. His mother called out for them to be careful from the garden. She sold her plants, the boy found that very boring, while his father was a guard, a much more exciting job.
His father had found a stick to arm himself with as well and the two playfully whacked at each other. One gave instructions and advice while the other mostly ignored it but both enjoyed the game. Dad really was the best.
As they continued the boy grew tired but he was unwilling to give up the fun just yet. It was so rare for his father to have a leisure day, he needed to play as much as he could. As it usually does, tiredness leads to mistakes and the boy lost his footing, falling to the ground and scraping an elbow.
With a wail, the boy sat up and held the injured appendage while tears rolled down his cheeks. His father scooped him up and took him to his mother, ruffling his hair as his mother took hold of him. She murmured words of comfort and love while she rubbed some paste onto the scrape to make it feel better.
The boy snuggled further into his mother’s embrace. Dad may be the best, but mom loves you most.