Page 36 of Colt
— Lilac —
Iwalked into the kitchen to find Colt at the table with both boys, math worksheets spread out between them.
I stopped in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt. Knox was chewing on his pencil eraser, his face scrunched in concentration. Luca had his arms crossed, looking frustrated.
“I don’t get it,” Luca said, his voice tight with barely contained tears. “The numbers get all mixed up. It doesn’t make sense.”
I waited for Colt to get impatient. To sigh heavily or snap at him to just figure it out.
Instead, Colt put down the pencil he’d been holding and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, let’s try something different.” His voice was calm, unhurried. “Forget the worksheet for a second. Let’s use something real.”
He got up and walked over to Betty’s fruit bowl, pulling out a bunch of grapes. “We’re gonna do math with food. Because honestly? Numbers on paper are boring. Math with snacks is better.”
Knox perked up. “We get to eat the math?”
“When we’re done, yeah.” Colt sat back down and pulled five grapes off the bunch, lining them up in a row. “Okay, Luca. Count these.”
Luca pointed at each one. “One, two, three, four, five.”
“Good.” Colt pulled off three more grapes and set them next to the first group. “Now count these.”
“One, two, three.”
“Perfect. So if you’ve got five grapes, and I give you three more grapes, how many grapes do you have all together?”
Luca frowned at the grapes, then started counting from the beginning. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”
“Eight. Exactly.” Colt pointed at the worksheet. “That’s what this problem is asking. Five plus three equals eight. You just did it.”
Luca looked at the grapes, then at the worksheet. “But the worksheet doesn’t have grapes.”
“No, but you can imagine them.” Colt tapped the next problem. “Seven plus two. Close your eyes and picture seven grapes. Then picture two more. How many total?”
Luca closed his eyes, his lips moving silently as he counted. “Nine.”
“You got it.” Colt grinned at him. “See? You’re good at math. You just needed to see it in your head.”
Knox was watching now, interested. “Can I do grapes?”
“Sure. You’ve got four grapes.” Colt set out four grapes. “I eat two of them.” He popped two in his mouth. “How many are left?”
Knox counted the remaining grapes. “Two!”
“Right. Four minus two equals two.” Colt pulled the worksheet closer. “Just like this problem right here.”
I watched as both boys bent over their worksheets, working through problems that had made them cry five minutes ago.
Colt didn’t rush them. Didn’t check his phone or look bored. He sat there patiently, answering questions, occasionally adding more grapes to help them visualize the problems, treating their homework like it mattered because it mattered to them.
At one point, Knox wrote a number backward—a 3 that looked like an E-and instead of correcting him harshly, Colt justsaid, “Hey, your three is trying to escape. It’s running in the wrong direction.”
Knox giggled and fixed it.
When the worksheets were finally done, Colt high-fived both boys and let them eat the remaining grapes. They ran off to watch TV, homework forgotten, and Colt started gathering the papers.
“You’re good at that,” I said from the doorway.
He looked up, startled—he hadn’t realized I was there. “At what?”
