By early afternoon, I was running between stations, trying to keep everything on schedule.
Ethan had come by to drop off a Christmas card he’d made for the staff.
He saw the chaos.
« Dad, do you need help? »
I shook my head.
« Go enjoy your Christmas Eve, buddy. »
He looked around the kitchen.
« You’re not enjoying yours. »
I laughed despite myself.
« Fair point. »
He took off his jacket.
« I can do the boxes. You handle the food. »
And that was that.
For almost three hours, he carefully folded dessert cartons, secured gold paper bands around the boxes, and helped organize finished orders.
He worked slowly at first.
Then he found a rhythm.
Rosa kept telling him what a great job he was doing.
At one point, she handed him a particularly large stack of dessert boxes.
« These are for a special event-planning company, » she explained. « Thirty-five portions. They want everything unbranded. »
