Tuck had recently discovered Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. Spellbound, he stood four feet from the TV, watching the friendly man zip up his sweater and tie his sneakers.
My little brother glanced around the room, then back at the screen several times. Mr. Rogers had just finished his opening song.
“Hi Neighbor!”
“Something wrong, Tucky?” I asked.
He cupped his mouth. “Who is he talking to?” he blurted out in a hushed voice.
I smiled. Tuck needed a fatherly person around. I played along.
“You, of course.” I said. “He wants to be your neighbor.”
With big eyes, Tuck faced the TV again.
“I’m glad we’re together again,” said Mr. Rogers, as if he’d been listening to our conversation.
Tucks lips parted. “He lives on our street?”
“No, he lives in the TV, right here in our living room.” I struggled not to laugh.
Tuck cautiously made eye contact with Mr. Rogers. He darted over to whisper in my ear. “How’d he get in there?”Continue reading