On Saturday morning, Diana finds Spencer sitting on the living room floor surrounded by the carefully arranged pieces of his model rocket. The instruction booklet rests open beside his knee but it has been joined by several pages of handwritten notes that look suspiciously more detailed than the original manual. She pauses in the doorway for a moment, watching him examine a tiny plastic piece with complete concentration, his brow slightly furrowed as he compares the instructions with his own observations. There is a familiar intensity in the way he works, the same focus he brings to every question that catches his attention and Diana cannot help the small smile that appears on her face.
“Spencer,” she says as she steps into the room, “should I ask why your toy rocket has more paperwork than some of the projects your dad brings home?”
He looks up, blinking a few times as though he has only just realized he is no longer alone. The surprise on his face quickly disappears, replaced by the seriousness he always gives whenever he believes something needs clarification.
“It doesn’t have more paperwork,” he explains immediately. “The instruction manual is only four pages. My notes are seven pages, but that’s because I included additional explanations.”
Diana sits down beside him and picks up one of the pages, her eyes moving over the neat handwriting, the carefully drawn arrows connecting different parts and the small diagram showing what the completed rocket should look like.
“Additional explanations,” she repeats, trying not to laugh.
“Yes.” Spencer gently takes the page back, careful not to wrinkle it. “The instructions are technically correct but they don’t explain why certain pieces need to be assembled in that specific order. I thought understanding the purpose behind each step would make the process more efficient.”
Diana watches him for a moment, warmth filling her expression. Spencer has never been interested in simply memorizing information. He has always wanted to understand the reason behind it, the pattern underneath it, the invisible connection that makes everything fit together. To him, learning is not about collecting answers. It is about understanding why those answers exist in the first place.
“So you didn’t ignore the instructions?” she asks.
Spencer immediately shakes his head, almost surprised she would think that. “No. I used them as a foundation. There’s a difference between ignoring information and improving information.”
Diana raises her eyebrows, amused by how much that sounds like his dad. “That sounds exactly like something your dad would say.”
Spencer tilts his head slightly, considering whether that is a compliment or an observation. “Is that a compliment?”
“It depends.” She glances down at the pages again before looking back at him. “Did your dad also create a color-coded system for building a toy rocket?”
Spencer looks toward the kitchen, where William is making coffee and shakes his head. “No.”
“But he does organize his tools by category.”
Diana laughs softly because that is, unfortunately, very true. “That is true.”
Before Spencer can begin explaining why organization systems improve efficiency and reduce errors, the sound of the doorbell interrupts him. A few seconds later, Sam’s voice carries through the house.
“Spencer! You said you were coming outside!”
Spencer freezes and Diana immediately notices the guilty expression that crosses his face. She looks toward the front door, then back at the unfinished rocket pieces scattered around him.
“Oh no,” she says, already knowing the answer. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
Spencer looks down at the rocket before looking back at his mom. “I forgot.”
Diana folds her arms, trying not to smile. “You forgot?”
“I didn’t forget that they exist,” he quickly clarifies. “I just lost track of time because I was working on the rocket.”
Her eyes move toward the half-assembled model beside him. “The rocket that you told me would only take ten minutes?”
Spencer follows her gaze and studies the pieces thoughtfully, almost like he is analyzing evidence in front of him. “I underestimated the complexity.”
Diana presses her lips together to hide her amusement. “No, Spencer. I think you underestimated how long you would spend explaining things to yourself.”
He pauses, genuinely considering her words instead of immediately disagreeing. After a moment, he gives a small nod. “That is also possible.”
A quiet laugh escapes Diana as she shakes her head and looks toward the window, where Sam and Jim are waiting outside with their bicycles. “Your friends are out there because they want to spend time with you. They’re not waiting because they want to interrupt your project.”
Spencer follows her gaze, his expression softening when he sees his friends still waiting patiently. “I know.”
“You can come back to this later,” she reminds him gently.
His fingers rest against the edge of the instruction booklet and for a moment he looks torn between the unfinished rocket and the afternoon waiting outside. “But what if I forget where I stopped?”
Diana reaches over and hands him a pencil. “Then write yourself a note.”
The solution satisfies him immediately. Spencer opens his notebook and carefully writes a reminder, making sure every word is precise enough that he will understand it later.
William walks into the room just as Spencer finishes and leans over slightly to read the sentence. His expression becomes amused as he sees the carefully written note.
“A reminder,” Spencer answers.
William reads it aloud. “‘Continue rocket improvements after social activity.’” A smile forms on his face. “Most people would probably just write ‘play outside.’”
Spencer looks genuinely confused. “That doesn’t explain what I was doing before.”
William lets out a quiet laugh and shakes his head. “Spencer.”
After one last glance at his rocket, Spencer carefully places the pencil down. “Okay.”
He slips on his shoes, grabs his jacket and heads outside. Sam immediately looks up as he approaches.
“You took forever,” he says, the grin on his face making it obvious he is teasing.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Spencer says as he adjusts the strap of his bag. “I was working on something and became distracted.”
Sam glances toward the house. “The rocket?”
Sam points at him immediately. “I knew it.”
“It was interesting,” Spencer defends.
“It’s always interesting,” Sam replies, shaking his head.
“That’s because learning is interesting,” Spencer says with complete seriousness.
Jim leans against his bicycle, watching the exchange with an amused smile. “You know, most people would just say sorry and move on.”
Spencer turns toward him, genuinely puzzled. “Why would I leave out the explanation?”
“Because sometimes,” Jim says with a laugh, “the explanation takes longer than the thing you’re explaining.”
Spencer goes quiet for a moment, actually thinking about the point rather than arguing against it. “That is a fair criticism.”
Sam and Jim exchange a look before laughing and Spencer smiles too, even if he still does not completely understand why his way of thinking seems so amusing to everyone else.
The afternoon disappears quickly. They ride their bicycles, play soccer and spend more time laughing than actually keeping track of who wins. Spencer still explains his strategies before games and still gets distracted whenever something catches his attention, whether it is the shape of clouds above them or a calculation that has absolutely no practical purpose. His friends never make him feel strange for it. They simply wait for him to finish his thoughts because they know that is part of who he is and Spencer knows they will still be there when he is ready to continue playing.
When he finally returns home, his jeans are covered in grass stains and there is a small scrape on his knee. William looks up from the kitchen table and immediately notices.
“I’m guessing the afternoon went well?”
Spencer sits down carefully, maintaining the serious expression he always wears when describing something important. The effort only makes the situation more obvious.
William reaches for the first-aid kit. “An unexpected incident?”
Spencer nods. “Yes. That is an accurate description of what happened.”
Diana enters the room carrying a plate of freshly cut fruit and stops when she sees Spencer sitting on the couch with his knee wrapped in a bandage. She looks from William’s amused expression to Spencer’s overly serious posture.
“I’m guessing this is not just a simple scratch.”
“According to him,” William says, smiling, “it was an unexpected incident.”
Diana looks at Spencer. “An unexpected incident?”
Spencer straightens slightly, preparing his explanation. “Yes. That accurately describes the sequence of events.”
Diana shakes her head affectionately as she hands him a piece of fruit. “I have a feeling there is a much simpler way to describe this.”
Spencer hesitates because he knows exactly what she means.
Diana laughs softly. “Thank you for eventually getting to the point.”
William laughs beside him and Spencer smiles because he understands they are teasing him, not making fun of him. They love the way his mind works, even when it means a simple explanation occasionally requires several additional explanations first.
That evening, the rocket is finally completed. Spencer sits between his parents on the living room floor, explaining the final steps while William helps attach the last pieces and Diana listens from the couch. The process takes much longer than expected, mostly because Spencer continues stopping to share another observation, another theory, or another detail he believes is important.
Neither of them rushes him.
By the time the rocket stands completed on the table, Spencer is already half-asleep, leaning against his mom’s shoulder while his finished creation sits proudly nearby.
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