My Mother’s Day pot, carefully crafted by nine year old hands.
The pink flower still blooms pretty and vibrant.
There is a small stake beside the flower. Where sometimes gardeners put the name of the flower or plant, my son has placed his own picture. Like this is Max’s Flower.
My daughter’s school hands out certificates for exhibiting the trait of the month, be it honesty, responsibility, integrity. The kids are so excited as they await the presentation of their award and a high five from all the teachers who stand in a row.
I really like this. It makes the kids feel good.
My son’s tummy starts hurting at Chapter’s so we leave but stop to pick a prescription up for his Dad. Max moans in the back and when his sister makes him laugh, tells her to stop because it hurts too much.
Half an hour later after a lie down at home, he’s good.
Again waiting at my daughter’s bus stop – I spy a couple of tall gangly pre teen boys. One is dressed like this and Where’s Waldo is instantly brought to mind.
I wait for my daughter at her bus stop at the end of the day. Two boys I know from school, both my daughter’s age, approach. One jingles change in his pocket. I say:
“Sounds like you’ve got some money to spend.”
“Goin to the convenience store,” he tells me, punctuates it with a nod.
The other boy nods in agreement.
“What are you going to get?”
Images jump into my head of bubble gum in the shape of tape, big bags of chips, ice cream sandwiches, ring pops, licorice strings, toffee, chocolate bars.
“Beef jerky,” the other boy says.
He stops briefly to point forward, putting a period at the end of his sentence.
They both smile wide and continue past me.