Trains and Dinosaurs

There's one quiet little boy at my church whom I've always loved. If you ever try to talk to him, he immediately stops what he's doing, looks at you with his little brown eyes, backs up, and finds someone or something to hide behind. But he is just so little and cute that you can't help but long to be his friend.
Yesterday I went to his house to take pictures of him, Julie Blackmon style, for a photo assignment. At first he just hid, peeked out with his little eyes, hid again, and peeked out again. He did this for a little while. Then he started to talk. And once he started to talk, he talked. I didn't know what in the world he was saying but it was one of the best things. After filling up the roll of film, I sat at his train table and played with him for a while. We carried the cargo to the other side of town, provided transportation for a cow, and crashed quite frequently. Next was a game of hide and seek. You had until the count of 7 to hide, which was really about 3 seconds long. And if you took more than 60 seconds to find him, he would run out to you with a little snaggle tooth smile.

Knowing that as soon as I left his home, Kaplan would probably act like I was a complete stranger, I enjoyed the moments that I got to be his friend. But later that night at church, the little boy that never spoke saw me from a short distance and called out, "Hey," as he turned to continue running around with the boys. Even if next time he shies away, that unexpected greeting from this tiny guy was a big highlight of my day.