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“Whatcha doin?”
“Ah! Mabel!”
“Oops, sorry, Grunkle Stan. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t scare me,” he cleared his throat, “I just wasn’t expecting you.”
“It’s ok, Grunkle Stan. You don’t have to pretend!” She scooted closer to the wheeled contraption on the floor. “What’s this for?”
“Nothing, Mabel, just a side project.”
“Does this have to do with your other side project of replacing the stairs to the shack with a ramp?”
“What?! How did you—”? Nevermind.” He sighed, seeing no point in hiding it, “Yes, Mabel, it does.”
“And it’s for Grunkle Ford, right? Cause I see him sometimes grab his back when he thinks nobody is watching. And he shakes and stumbles and spasms sometimes. But he always seems afraid that someone is going to catch on. So a wheelchair could be nice to help with whatever he’s going through.”
Stan was once again surprised by her astute observations. Although she didn’t know the extent, her understanding was impressive.
“You’re right Mabel. Ford has,” he saw the image of his brother on the floor flash in front of his eyes. “Some chronic pain, and sometimes it makes walking and doing things hard. Since he deals with it all the time, I figured it would be nice to try and lessen it a little bit.”
“Awww! Grunkle Stan, that is just the sweetest! Can Dipper and I help? Cause I’m sure he would want to help make the wheels all terrain so they could go exploring, and it looks a little plain so maybe we could add some glitter and some paint and maybe add some cup holders so he can drink his tea and maybe some—”
“Woah, woah. Ok, sweetie. You have a lot of great ideas there. I like your spunk. Why don’t you go find your brother and we can brainstorm some ideas?”
“Yay! Thank you Grunkle Stan! This is gonna be the coolest, mostest bestest chair ever!” She scampered off, yelling for Dipper at the top of her lungs.