But there are other times when they find their way to the porch in the sunlight of autumn, and they talk to each other with kindness as one whittles and one weaves. They plan Christmas presents for their aunts and uncles. They encourage each other and let out little giggles, all of which I can hear from the open kitchen window.
Those are the times I like.
For any mother of a boy who has a hard time finding hobbies, I highly recoomend whittling. Gus likes his crafts to have an air of danger.