Several months ago Sean had his friend Marlee over to play. I banished them out to the backyard where they had a terrific time collecting poor unsuspecting roly poly bugs, dragging all the toys out into the yard, playing in the sandbox and digging up what would be my flower beds if I ever get around to putting in seasonal color. Unlikely.
At one point, I looked out the back windows to check on them and they were hauling sand from the sandbox up to the house and pouring it all over the stone path and the patio. So I opened the door and asked them not to do that and to please keep the sand in the vicinity of the sandbox.
And that was that. I never gave it another thought. Not one.
Yesterday, I’m sitting at my desk working on my computer, and out of the wild blue yonder, Sean comes to me and puts his hand on my leg, his sign that he needs to tell me something. I stop typing and turn and look at him. He has his shirt on backwards and there is evidence of a blue Popsicle on his face. My heart stops momentarily when I realize that I had a hand in this marvelous creation.
“Mom,” he says seriously, “There is something you need to know.”
I look at him and widen my eyes to indicate that I am all ears.
“Remember when Marlee came over and we were in the backyard?”
“Well, it was her idea to take the sand out of the sandbox.”
I blink slowly and widen my eyes again to indicate I’m waiting for the rest of the story.
He looks at me with wide blue eyes and blinks.
I blink back and wait for context.
“And?” I finally ask.
“I just wanted you to know that.”
As I look into his face that is mine, I was impressed with his terrific memory and baffled that he would carry around an obscure meaningless event and then dredge it up for no obvious reason.
God help this child, he is just like his mother.
Then I blinked again and wondered how to teach him not to hang on to this kind of stuff, how to teach him the fine are of letting go.