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It was about two weeks after Buck had moved in with them, and they were all getting more and more used to the young boy’s presence and role in the household.
One way being - chores.
None of the chores were that hard or time consuming, Buck was only five years old. But every little bit of help the boy could provide was great.
And for the most part, Buck loved helping everyone out. He loved anything that involved doing something with other people really.
Most of the chores they gave him were simple and straightforward. Putting away all of the toys in his bedroom. Making sure everything he needed for school was in his backpack before they left in the morning. Watering the plants they had growing right outside the back door in the morning.
Some of the stuff was Buck helping other people get stuff done. Folding the laundry. Sweeping the floors. Putting away dishes after they’d gone through the dishwasher.
Most of the dishes Buck put away were for things that went on the bottom shelves, so it was usually less than half, but it was still (somehow) one of Buck’s favorite chores to do, and he was always quick to help when someone was doing the task.
“These two go in the cabinet by the fridge,” Bobby said as he handed Buck to ceramic cereal bowls.
“I know that Mr. Bobby,” Buck said as he took the bowls from his foster father. He took slow steps as he walked the few steps across the kitchen to said cabinet, keeping a careful and sure grip around the bowls.
He had to rearrange the grip in his hands to be able to open the cabinet door, and as he did so, one of the bowls slipped from his hands, landing on the tile floor of the kitchen just right for it to shatter apart, the shards going quick all around the room.
Bobby quickly turned his head to the boy as he heard the noise. Buck stood there stock still and completely frozen.
“Okay,” Bobby said, his voice remaining calm. “Just don’t move your feet, Buck.”
Right as Bobby said the boy’s name, he watched as Buck’s shoulders picked up nearly to his ears, and he flinched. Bobby hadn’t yelled at him, Buck hadn’t really even done anything wrong, but he obviously didn’t think that.
Buck spun around, his back to the cabinet, his eyes were wide, jumping from one corner of the kitchen to another and then another. “I’m sorry!” he yelled out, nearly screaming.
“Hey,” Bobby held his arms up, his voice remaining calm. “It’s okay, it was an accident. I know you didn’t mean to drop it.”
Buck still wasn’t calming down. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. Bobby shifted closer to the boy, and Buck moved one of his socked feet backwards, stepping right onto one of the shards that was still on the floor.
Bobby saw the exact second as the shard sent a spike of pain up Buck’s leg, making the boy jump even more than when he first dropped the bowl. He let out a shocked noise.
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Eventually, Bobby was able to get Buck to calm down enough to pick him up and move him out of the kitchen, setting him on one of the chairs by the dinner table so that he could get a look at the boy’s foot.
Luckily, due to Buck wearing socks, the shard had not cut that deep into Buck’s foot. There were a couple drops of blood, but nothing that a couple wipes and a bandaid couldn’t fix. Unless Buck started picking at it over the next couple days, Bobby would bet that the wound would be completely healed and forgotten about by next week.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Bobby,” Buck’s soft voice said as Bobby finished applying the band aid.
“What are you sorry for, buddy?” Bobby asked.
“For breaking the bowl.”
Bobby gave a small sigh, looking up at Buck’s face. “Look Buck, I know it was an accident. I know that you didn’t mean to drop it.”
“But I did,” Buck muttered. “So that means that it’s my fault.”
Bobby wanted to let out a long sigh, to run his hands through his hair, or go on a long walk and work out all of the feelings going through him right now. BUt he knew that if he did that right now, it wouldn’t help Buck at all.
So instead, Bobby took a second to breathe, before saying, “Look Buck, even if you want to think that the broken bowl is your fault. I know that you didn’t mean to drop it. Everyone breaks one at some point.”
“Even you?” Buck asked then.
“Yes, even me,” Bobby said. “And Athena has, so have May and Harry. I don’t know how many times I’ve dropped something and it broke before. And I’m sure I’ll do it again at some point.”
They were both silent for a long moment, and when Buck still didn’t look convinced, Bobby said, “And don’t worry, we have more of those same bowls, and if they break one day we can go buy more.”
And it seemed that finally was what Buck needed to hear, for he met Bobby’s gaze and asked, “Mr. Bobby, can I have a hug?”
Bobby smiled. “Sure, kid,” he said as Buck leant into him and wrapped his small arms around Bobby’s large torso.