Tossing a pebble out, she listens. She cannot hear its impact above the soft roar of the river, but she can see its wake.
She picks a stone out of the dirt. A blue stone.
"Blue," she says. "A blue stone, Carl."
She moves it slowly in front of her son. Carl's eyes move, following the stone's path. His hand is grabbing, opening and closing, trying to reach. Ellen keeps it just out of his grasp, a quarter of an inch away. Carl is determined. She can see that in his eyes. After a few minutes, she gives him the stone.
He launches it toward the water. The stone clicks when it hits a rock on the bank. Carl looks to his mother for help.