We are looking for lucky acorns, because Henry wants to make a wish.
"It should be flat but not broken," he tells me. Everyone knows the Impossible Acorn is the luckiest.
I pick up an un-flat but pretty acorn. "I don't know, Henry, this one feels lucky to me."
He looks it over. "It's not flat, but it's okay," he says.
He squeezes it in his fist and brings it up to his mouth. Clamps his eyes shut, and whispers. Loudly, so I can hear. But I'm not telling you what the wish is, because everyone knows then it won't come true.
He looks at me, nods, then tosses the acorn. "Good," he says. Now we can finish our walk. We're not crossing any more streets, but we hold hands anyway.