"I got this," Maya chirped, already tightening her ponytail.
And with that, the ten-year-old with the zip was gone again, a blur of motion in the afternoon sun.
By the time she returned to the garden, she was breathless but grinning, the parts clutched to her chest. She crawled into the muddy trench, her small hands moving with the precision of a clockmaker and the speed of a hummingbird.
Maya just took a gulp of her drink and adjusted her sneakers. "I will," she said, already eyeing the next task. "Right after I finish the decorations. We've still got two hours!"