After the call, I went back to the living room.

Noah had finished one worksheet and was attempting another with a pencil worn down almost to its eraser.

“You have longer pencils,” I said.

“This one works.”

“Your fingers may disagree.”

He looked at the pencil, then accepted a new one.

It was a decision he could make without a safety meeting.

I sat on the floor beside the papers and helped him find the missing page.