The Whistler

My mom calls Little Brother “The Whistler.” He’s very proud of having learned to whistle. I know he’s happy when I hear him whistling away (tunelessly, but happily.)

He was walking around here like a sleepy little zombie a few minutes ago, so I sent him to wash his hands and face and brush his teeth. I could hear the water running, and then he started to whistle.

It takes a special kind of talent to whistle while you brush your teeth.

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