As the days wore on he’d be seen scribbling in this tattered notebook he always carried with him as I’d be playing soccer, or football, as he called it. He’d been introduced to my crew and everyone accepted him quickly he had such style. But when he said he didn’t want to play no one objected. He just sat on the sidelines scribbling away and everyone thought that was just fine. Everything he did seemed just right with everyone he met.
Boy did he like cereal. Couldn’t get enough of the stuff. On a rough estimate I’d put him at seven bowls a day minimum. When family dinners came around he still had room to clear his plate and he always helped with washing up. Come to think of it he did more than his fair share of chores too. Mom loved him. Manners and style.