#rivervale_lodge

Connor is deep in thought. He has a list he is working on - not the one he sent to Santa, but important none the less. He ponders over this, half wandering doodles and half painstakingly written out in colored pencil - colored, because it's still fun, but more Official with crayons. And he mulls over it, thinking. Then, he goes looking for a grown-up... Frank, if he can be found.

Frank can, indeed, be found; he's doing some yard work.

Connor trots up, see, and trots away, and comes back with a bag to help with the leaves. "Mountain Frank?" He asks after a minute or two of working.

"Thank you, Connor." Frank accepts his help, then responds "Yes?"

"I would like scotch, please. It's on the top shelf and Miss Kerri said no climbing in the kitchen."

A cheery smile.

Frank -looks- at Connor. "Pardon?"

His ears tilt. "I can't reach it. Because you're tall." A nod, as he explains.

"Do you mean butterscotch?"

He gives this some deep thought.

"Will the butter get in the way?"

"Of what?"

"Of scotch!" He nods, and frowns a little, his tail drooping as he tries to figure out how to explain. He is making sense.... Frank just has trouble hearing sometimes.

"You can keep the juice? The bottle will do."

"And you can keep the butter, too."

Magnanimous!

Frank puts his yardwork down and crouches to be on eye level. "Connor, what's this about? You want a scotch bottle?"

His tail wags!

"Please! It is for a surprise."

He looks hopeful.

And continues to help with the lawn chores.

"Can you tell me the surprise? I promise not to tell anyone else."

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” He does look sorry. “But I’m not even sure it will work.”

“Maybe if I got butter and scotch and tape that’s scotch it could use the tape to pull out the butter. But that’s more complicated...”

"Only a scotch bottle will do? It needs to be that bottle?"

"Any Scotch, not a gin or a rummy, that would be for card games." Nodding.

"Why scotch?"

"Why not?"

"Do you ask the sun why she is yellow or the river why it burbles? A door is a door until it is a jar, but a jar won't let you through unless you put holes in it, then it's only good for fire flies."

His chin quivers. Explaining is HARD.

"Connor, I'll get you the bottle. No scotch, though, but the bottle you can have. I'm just curious about it."

"I can show you if it works?" He offers.

"I guess if it doesn't it's just... recycling." A frown, then he lifts his chin up. "But I Think it might."

"Ok. Do you want to come with me to get it?"

"I can work on the leaves if you like. It will take LOTS more of a pile big enough for you to jump in, but kicking a pile is fun, too?"

"Up to you, Connor. Thank you for your help. Should I go get the bottle now?"

"Yee!" He cheers in response, and tosses leaves into the air like confetti.

"Ok. I'll be back." And he goes to the kitchen to decant the scotch into something else and wash the bottle clean.

And he returns. "Connor?"

He has gathered up all the leaves, and even bagged them neatly. Except for the ones stuck in his hair, that show he rolled in them at least a little.

"Yes'm?"

"Here you go. I put it in a bag for you. Please don't show it off or let too many people see it? The explaination could be difficult."

"All my explanations are difficult." He nods in agreement, and tucks it carefully away. A beaming smile and a hug around the leg for Mountain Frank.

Frank pats his back gently.

"Okay. You got this. I have faith in you. Good luck with the leafs!" Connor scrambles off, gleeful! Surely up to only good.

Frank is mildly worried but.... he goes back to his yard work.