I did not witness the event described herein. Samara did. And I was so excited that, when she finished telling me, I made her narrate the entire tale, again, to my mother and Adrian, via speaker-phone. The hearsay version follows—
The setting was a 67-degree New York City afternoon, yesterday. Samara took Martin—he was exhausted from the overnight flight home, yet alert and adventurous—to play at a park with a substantial sandbox. Martin managed to get hold of the only on-site bucket and shovel. He had filled the bucket with sand and was using the shovel to scoop it out when another boy, perhaps four years old, approached and wanted the bucket.
Martin’s usual response to such a situation has been to abandon the toy to the child who demands it, and perhaps to start crying. Yesterday, instead, Martin engaged in some sort of wordless negotiation with the older boy, which resulted in the two of them sitting down, the bucket between them. The older boy cupped his hands to dump sand into the bucket; Martin used the shovel to scoop it out the other side. According to Samara, the two preschoolers cooperated this way for some ten minutes.
That’s my boy.