Again!

Kabir was building a tower.

One block. Two blocks. Three blocks. Four!

It was the tallest tower Kabir had ever—

CRASH!

Down it came. Blocks everywhere. Blocks under the sofa. One block on the dog.

Kabir’s mouth went wobbly. His eyes went hot.

And then Kabir said the word. The best word. The strongest word a small builder knows:

“AGAIN!”

One block. Two blocks. Three, four, FIVE!

It was the tallest tower in the whole—

CRASH!

“AGAIN!”

One, two, three, four, five… six!

And this tower did not crash. This tower stood, wobbling a little, tall as Kabir’s tummy, the tallest tower ever built in that house on that day by that boy.

Kabir looked at it a long time.

Then Kabir grinned a big grin — and knocked it down himself.

CRASH!

“Ha!” said Kabir, blocks all around him like a puddle he’d made on purpose. Because here is a builder’s secret: when you have built a tower six blocks tall, the crash isn’t scary anymore.

The crash is just the sound of again getting ready.

“One more,” said Ma, “then bed.”

One block. Two blocks. Three blocks… slower now… four blocks… slower… five…

The tower stood. The boy yawned.

“Again tomorrow,” said Kabir.

And the blocks waited all night by his bed, dreaming of how tall they would be in the morning.