When Ethan tells a story:

His hands tell it, too. And there's this arching of fingers and waving of palms, and he swallows cause he's talking too fast, moving back and forth from foot to foot. His eyes wander when he's thinking and he pulls at his shirt, and he just can't keep the grin down when he knows you're really listening, what he's telling really delights him. His lips move to the side as he talks from them, and they hurry to keep up with his mind because he can't tell it fast enough. And there's this smile when he's done, and it just gets bigger when he lets you get a word in edge-wise, or laugh, or just say, "I love you, Ethan."

He hugs you back, because he's still much little boy and not full grown, because he hasn't grown out of himself yet. He grins it big in his changing voice. "Tanks," he says, "I love you, too."