I’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks that a certain six year-old has really developed a fondness for pockets.
Not just because he likes to put rocks and Star Wars action figures and fake money in them.
But because these days he likes to put his hands in his pockets. A lot.
Sometimes when he has his hands in his pockets he likes to rock back and forth on his heels a little bit.

Sometimes he likes to walk down the hall at a leisurely pace – no rush, no hurry, no worries.

Sometimes he just likes to stand.

And sometimes he likes to survey his surroundings.

But for whatever the reason, those long, skinny arms that seemed like they were all over the place when he was three, four, five – well, they’re more subdued. Instead of constantly being a threat to any lamp, wall hanging or breakable object within a ten foot radius, his arms sometimes stay by his side for five whole minutes in a row.
Because his hands are in his pockets.
And he looks like such a little man.



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