Zach's natural state is happy. He leans into life with a smile - and with one of his ever-present airplanes clutched tight in one dimpled fist. He seems always to be on the verge of a bubble of laughter. He's just that kind of kid. However, he is only human, and he is only just two. Today he arrived wailing. Even through the closed front door I could hear it, and I recognized his, er, voice. Some mornings are like that! Respecting his distress, mom and I keep the transition very brief. In less than two minutes mom is driving off and I am holding the boy, who is holding his precious airplane. We snuggle on the couch for a bit as he calms. Harry, though not generally well attuned to emotional subtleties, has in fact noticed Zach's distress. He leans close and hands Zach a truck. (Not just any truck, either; this is the truck he sought out the minute he arrived, and has been clutching ever since. What a kind little fellow!) Zach reaches out to receive the truck, and gazes solemnly at Harry. Harry smiles encouragingly back. They hold his pose for a beat, and then Zach, with the teardrops still glistening on his cheek, breaks into a beaming smile. And offers Harry his airplane.