For weeks, Oliver worked on his little wooden mouse. It began as a chunk of wood and he carved, sanded and oiled it with love. I can see how carefully he placed the eyes, ears and tail. Oliver gave me regular updates on his little masterpiece. He had so much pride in his work. His little heart was so in this. And then, for my birthday, he gave me his heart. When I hold this little mouse in my hands, I can almost feel it beat.
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