The cookie jar sat back on the out of the reach of small arms, though their hands had made it. The amorphous blue and green blob with odd protrusions was barely identifiable as a jar, and unidentifiable as anything else. A dragon? An octopus? A strange grassy knoll? It didn’t matter, all that mattered was the love that had made it.

“Hey Billy, what’s with that old cookie jar? Why doesn’t your mom just get a new one?” asked Fred.

“Dunno,” Billy shrugged, “some weird mom reason. Know what, maybe I’ll buy her one for Mother’s Day.”

“Good plan,” Fred nodded. “Let’s go!” The two boys went off to do their paper route.

In the weeks that followed, when he had time between school, the basketball team, and his paper route, Billy did odd jobs for the neighbours. He mowed Mr. Grey’s monster lawn, fed Mrs. Lucas’s four cats when she went away, and even deigned to babysit the Wolby twins.

When Mom opened the gift, she smiled and thanked Billy. But the next morning, the old blue and green cookie jar was still there.