Five-year-old Tanner Skelton, the youngest of three missing brothers, knows he's the fastest in his family, certainly in all the school, and perhaps in the world.
He demonstrated each recess to his kindergarten teacher, Janet Rollins, that all he had to say was "Flash," and his little legs would rip into hyperdrive.
He would race off and then circle back, slow down, and grin his teacher's way, imploring her to watch his magic again. "Flash," he would scream with joy, and off he'd sprint, the fastest little boy.
"He'd say, 'I can run faster than my mom, my dad, my brothers,'" recalled Ms. Rollins, a box of Kleenex within reach and a tissue crumpled in her hand. "He was so happy-go-lucky. You just looked at his face, an angel face."
Ms. Rollins, like most every one interviewed Thursday in this border town of 2,000, was having trouble with verb tenses.
Residents constantly referred to Tanner and his two older brothers Alex, 7, and Andrew, 9, in the past tense, as if they were gone forever.
~snip~
Tanner, who prefers Skittles and M&Ms, is the fanciful one, perhaps because of his age. He dressed as Bob the Builder for Halloween and always wants to help, often grabbing the broom after his class finishes breakfast and starts to clean up. One other student would sometimes mimic him, but most pupils would have to be coaxed into such a chore.
Middle brother Alex takes on the role of caretaker, fetching his younger brother each day from his classroom at noon. The siblings walk the elementary school hallway together, arm-in-arm, to the office to use their asthma inhalers together.
Alex walks his brother to class in the morning, too. He hugs him goodbye, and makes sure he has his folder with him. The teachers and principal noticed this each day; the love and bond between the brothers inseparable.
Alex always wants to be first in reading group to answer. He pushes his hand high in the air begging to be called, Ms. Rollins said.
Oldest brother Andrew is the straight man with the serious demeanor and outsized vocabulary. Adults say he's wise beyond his third-grade experience, asking off-the-wall questions that cause them to do a double-take and wonder how he could know such things or act so mature.
"Every time I would talk to him he would have a pretty deep conversation with you," Principal Mary Fisher said. "His language development is middle school to high school. He was just very mature in what he would say."
Ms. Rollins remembered that on the last day before Thanksgiving break, he walked into the school office and said: "I'm sorry Ms. Wood, I hope I'm not interrupting you."
"Andrew is a deep thinker. He thought a lot about everything," Ms. Rollins said.
The principal remembered that one day recently he came to school and said to her: "Did you know there's a giant T-Rex that lived in the ocean."
~snip~
Down the street at the community park, Trulla McClain, a service station manager, wrapped Christmas lights around a pine tree. The Sunday before Thanksgiving, the three Skelton boys helped her decorate the park, she said. She and the Skelton family go to church together.
At the park, Andrew had asked her if she wanted to see his new "self-defense moves," she remembered laughing. She declined.
The Christmas tree lights keep blowing out, and Ms. McClain has to return and replace them, she said.
She gets help from other volunteers, mostly from the church. She said she wants it to be perfect for the boys when they return home.
http://toledoblade.com/article/20101203/NEWS16/12030304
