Reuben loved to build machines.
He built them out of boxes and tape and string and spoons and whatever he found in the junk drawer.
Every machine had a purpose. Every machine had a name. And every single machine did something completely wrong.
One morning, Reuben's little sister Dot spilled her juice. It went everywhere. A big purple puddle right in the middle of the kitchen floor.
"Don't worry," said Reuben. "I'll build a machine."
He ran to the junk drawer. He pulled out a funnel, two rubber bands, a whisk, and a toilet paper roll. He taped them all together.
"This," he said proudly, "is the Spill-Sucking-Upper 3000."
He pressed the button — which was really just a bottle cap glued on top.
The machine did not suck up the spill.
The machine flung the whisk around in a circle and splattered purple juice on the ceiling, on the dog, and right across Dad's white shirt.
Dad looked down at his shirt.
Dot laughed so hard she fell off her chair.
"Hmm," said Reuben. "I'll adjust it later."
That afternoon, the back gate was stuck. Mom pushed it. Mom pulled it. Mom kicked it a little with her boot. It would not open.
"Don't worry," said Reuben. "I'll build a machine."
He found a pool noodle, a broom handle, three clothespins, and a very long piece of rope. He spent a long time in the garage. There were loud sounds. Banging sounds. One small crash.
He came out pushing something big.
"This," he said, "is the Gate-Unsticker-Matic."
He pulled the rope.
The machine did not open the gate.
The machine launched a clothespin straight up into the air — poing! — and it landed in the birdbath. Then the pool noodle flopped over and bonked Reuben right on the head.
Mom covered her mouth, but her shoulders were shaking.
The gate was still stuck.
"Hmm," said Reuben, rubbing his head. "Version two. Tomorrow."
That evening, baby brother Teddy would not stop crying. He was tired and fussy and his face was all red and scrunched up like a little tomato.
"Don't worry," whispered Reuben.
He tiptoed to the junk drawer. It was almost empty now. All he found was one bent paper clip, a rubber band, and a small cardboard box.
He sat on the floor outside Teddy's room. He poked two holes in the box. He pushed the rubber band through. He twisted the paper clip into a tiny handle.
He turned the handle.
The rubber band buzzed against the cardboard.
It made a sound — a soft, funny, humming little sound. Like a bee in a shoe box. Like a song stuck inside a tiny room.
Bzzzzmmmmmmm.
Reuben turned the handle again.
Bzzzzmmmmmmm.
Teddy stopped crying.
His red scrunchy face unsquished. His eyes got wide. His mouth made a little round "o."
Bzzzzmmmmmmm.
Teddy laughed. One small, hiccupy laugh.
Mom peeked in. Dad peeked in. Dot peeked in — still with purple juice in her hair.
Reuben sat on the floor, turning the little handle on his cardboard box, and the room filled up with that soft buzzing hum.
"What's this one called?" whispered Mom.
Reuben thought for a moment.
"I don't know yet," he said. "But I think it works."
Bzzzzmmmmmmm.
Teddy's eyes closed.
And Reuben smiled — just a little — and kept turning.
