It actually takes Greta a few moments to place him, which is just... inexcusable. There's a beat where she just stares at the lad, mulling him over as if trying to feel out an object in the dark, her mind spitting out vague tidbits like sad and motherless and starts with a J, doesn't it? before she belatedly puts it together.
Jack. Obviously. She'll forget her own head, next.
Blame it on the fact that she's tired, or that he's gone through a growth spurt these past few months - there's a joke to be made about beanstalks; she'll leave that to her husband - but as she spots him slouching between two stalls, it strikes her afresh how different he looks to when she first met him in the Woods. They're all growing up, she supposes. Including her own son, old enough now to run about and get into mischief and hang off her arm with a bored, "Muuuu-um! Are we done yet?"
She checks her basket one more time, because if she's having a hard time placing Jack, of all people, goodness knows whether she's managed to remember all her shopping. But everything seems to be in order, so she extricates her arm from her son's grip and gives the boy an encouraging nudge. "Yes, yes. Go fetch your brother."
"Jack!" The boy tears across the street, stumbling over a loose cobblestone as he goes, but with enough forward momentum to plow into Jack rather than fall to the ground. He wraps his arms around the older boy's leg and grins up at him. "We get to go home."
Yeah let's just go with the 21st
Jack. Obviously. She'll forget her own head, next.
Blame it on the fact that she's tired, or that he's gone through a growth spurt these past few months - there's a joke to be made about beanstalks; she'll leave that to her husband - but as she spots him slouching between two stalls, it strikes her afresh how different he looks to when she first met him in the Woods. They're all growing up, she supposes. Including her own son, old enough now to run about and get into mischief and hang off her arm with a bored, "Muuuu-um! Are we done yet?"
She checks her basket one more time, because if she's having a hard time placing Jack, of all people, goodness knows whether she's managed to remember all her shopping. But everything seems to be in order, so she extricates her arm from her son's grip and gives the boy an encouraging nudge. "Yes, yes. Go fetch your brother."
"Jack!" The boy tears across the street, stumbling over a loose cobblestone as he goes, but with enough forward momentum to plow into Jack rather than fall to the ground. He wraps his arms around the older boy's leg and grins up at him. "We get to go home."