I end the call to the take-and-bake and set my phone on my desk.

Fleegle runs over and nose bumps my leg. “Pizza? You said pizza on the phone, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

He runs to the door leading to the garage. “Come on, let’s go.”

I remain seated. “Hold your horses. They need to make the pizza before we go pick it up. There isn’t any rush.”

His butt leads him through spinning a circle. “What do you mean there’s no rush?” He spins another circle. “We need to go pick it up before someone else gets it. Like someone who isn’t busy holding their horses. Where are these horses anyway? Am I going to have to share my pizza with them?”