The grandson flew his plastic plane into the potatoes.
“You’re making mess,” Grandma said. But Grandpa just told him he needed to put his undercarriage down. He talked about the plane in the war that landed without wheels, spilling oil on the ground. Then he told of the prisoner who’d died when they cut off his head, spilling blood.
The boy looked down where gravy overflowed.
“You’re scaring him,” Grandma said. But Grandpa called it a blessing that he’d been taken prisoner then. People who flew planes didn’t live very long.
“Thank you God,” said the boy. His grandparents agreed.