Painful lessons

This morning, S was deeply asleep when it came time for T to leave the house to catch the bus. Sleep has been a bit elusive for S lately so no way was I going to wake her up. I walked about halfway with T, so that I could see the front door (which I had left open) but I could also see T at the bus stop.

This morning, he wanted to take Scoop with him. Scoop is his Bob the Builder bulldozer/scooper toy. I have no idea if that's actually his name since we have rarely seen Bob the Builder and I'm not interested enough to look it up. I know, I'm all authentic and into research like that.

Kids can't take toys to school (thank goodness!), but T wanted to show it to his friend that lives up the street and is in his kindergarten class. I agreed to let him take it to the bus stop with the understanding that he'd have to run it back to me when the bus came.

T takes off all excited to show off his toy. He finds his friend in the crowd of kids and runs up to him. I can hear T talking, but can't really make out what he's saying. But from his tone, it was pretty obvious that he was excited. Which, actually, is pretty normal for T.

A few seconds later, T turns around and comes over to me, head down, feet dragging. He hands me Scoop and turns around to go back to the bus stop.

"Wait - ' I say. "What's wrong?"

"My friend laughed at me and at Scoop" says T. "So I don't want him anymore."

"Okay, I'll take him back home with me and you can play with him when you get home from school."

"No, Mom. I don't want him anymore. That's a baby toy and I'm not a baby."

"T, if you love Scoop and want to play with him, you should. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."

T looks up at me, watery-eyed and skeptical. "It does matter Mom. It does."

CRACK!

Umm, that would be the sound of my heart breaking. I knew something like this would eventually happen, but I didn't expect it to be quite this painful. Or quite this soon.

I sent him off to school with a sad heart and a hanging head.

This afternoon when he comes home, he's happy go lucky again. I sweep him up in a big hug and ask about his day.

I had put Scoop on a table right inside the front door. I didn't say a single world about this morning or Scoop, but offered T a snack.

When he finished, he walked right over to Scoop and picked him up.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Can I take Scoop outside to play - just in the back yard?"

"Of course you can."

And right at the very second that I'm writing this? That's what I'm watching. And my heart? It's not so cracked anymore.