Chosen

Henry’s father pounded another nail into the roof of one of the birdhouses he was building. Henry watched closely. “Dad, do you think I could pound in one of those nails?” Henry asked. “Sure. I’ll get it started—” he tapped in a nail, “and you can finish it.” Henry carefully grasped the hammer. BANG-BANG. The nail was slightly crooked, but it was in. Henry was pleased. “There, another birdhouse finished.” His father set it on the table next to the others. Henry looked at them closely. Some...