My middle child is a sweet child

A story my middle son wrote, inspired by the image of a snowflake:

On a snowy winter day, there was a little log cabin with a fence around it and some logs and a snowman in the yard. Some kids next door were having a snowball fight. And one of the snowballs hit the window of the little cabin. A man stepped out. He was a kind man, known as Mr. Clack. He kindly said, "May you please watch your snowballs?" The children said, "Yes, sir!"

But as the years went by, the man aged older and older, and finally, he died! Everyone he helped--which was pretty much every one he ever saw--was there. But the man never truly died because part of him still lay in everyone.

THE END

He's a sweetie, that complicated middle child of mine. Clearly, he's inherited that from his father, the rarely seen, elusive "Sweetie Viking."