A little boy treasure

Sometimes I look my fair-skinned, blue-eyed ten-year old and wonder how I got so lucky to be his mommy.

With his sweet Dennis the Menace cowlick on his crown, a light dusting of freckles across his nose, he embodies all that is 'little boy'.

He finished fourth grade last week. In eight short weeks he'll start fifth grade. There has to be a mistake because it couldn't have been more than a month ago that I powdered his little butt, snapped on the Pamper, and re-clipped his overalls.

He seems so grown-up these days. He loves all manner of Star Wars. He needs deodorant. He uses words like actually, technically, and occasionally correctly in a sentence. He understood what it meant to elect a president and what effect this past election had.

Yesterday I was in his room trying to help him get things organized. Every little bit of plastic that looked like trash and I would have most likely thrown it away, he knew where it came from. It was a sight to behold.

Things that I figured he'd be ready to part with, he took in his hand and placed in his "special spot."

These were the years that I thought he'd forgo Legos, tiny plastic army men, Hot Wheels, and his blankey.

(Don't tell him I mentioned the blankey.)


Then I came across the things that were clearly trash. "What does this go to?" I hold up a rectangle of metal, about three inches long, half an inch wide, and just a bit thicker than aluminum foil.

"Nothing."

"What is it?"

Grins in a way that that only evil knows. "Just a piece of metal."

"Oh."

I find a paper towel tube. On each end he has pierced it with a clip. Like the kind you use for rock climbing. No doubt its intended purpose was some sort of Star Wars-like weaponry.

Underneath his bed was a spoon. To bring the snow. Of course! There is always a chance of snow in May. Nevermind the minor detail that we live in Tennessee and the daily average temperature for the month was 72.

Nicholas is and probably will always be my biggest challenge. He tends to be passionate and that passion can translate into a bit of an attitude.

(I am pretty sure he gets it from his dad. ::cough::)




I love that little boy and all the trash he collects.