His name was Evan Mark Pickler, Jr., and he was as short as his name was long. Large brown eyes in a small tiny face. I called him my fairy child, and he enchanted me from the very first day.
Evan loved to maintain a serious expression. There was, however, a perpetual grin behind the eyes. It was difficult to stay somber, and very easy to smile, when he was near.
Having a discussion with him was an experience all in its' own. I never knew where it might lead.
"Mrs. Hood, is this good writing?"
"Well, Evan, it's better."
"But it's good, right?"
"I can't say that, Evan. Compared to what you have been turning in, yes it's good, but it's not the best you can do. Right?"
"No, ma'am, but it's good for today, isn't it?"
"Mrs. Hood?"
"What, Evan?"
"Do you like the name Pickler?"
"Yes, I do."
"Some people laugh at my last name. Does it make you feel like laughing?"
"No, darling," I reply smiling. "I think it's a good last name."
"Well, it makes me think of pickles. I wish I had one right now. Do you like pickles, Mrs. Hood?"
I never knew once we started where we were going to end up. It was that way with him. With Evan. My fairy child.
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