"He could have been any little boy with a hat too big, a stick for fighting monsters, and a picnic lunch.
The moisture from his mother's kiss had barely dried on his forehead. The food beneath the crimson napkin was still warm. He was just an ordinary kid with a frog in his pocket and a bruise on his knee.
I saw my grandson peering out from under a felt hat one day, his eyes full of wonder like he had just seen God Himself. I think he (the boy with the fishes and loaves) must have been a lot like him.
He was no King David. He was not the Solomon type either.
He was just a boy. Curious, bored; didn't want to take a nap.
So he begged his mom and she let him go. She tied his shoes, tucked his shirt into his trousers, shoved the basket into his chubby fingers and he was gone up the hill where the crowd had gathered.
It turned out to be a day he would remember the rest of his life.