A Clearer Picture

On the way down the stairs I was thinking of a difficult family situation we're going through-getting older, taking care of loved ones, making the most out of life. Pretty big stuff.

As my mind was reeling about all of this, I brushed by a picture of my son and knocked it off the wall. I was relieved when I saw that the large piece of glass remained unbroken after the tumble. Smiling at the photo of my little guy at four months old-big chubby smile and fat fists, I knew this was sheer joy caught on film.

After adjusting the crooked matte, I returned the framed picture to the wall and walked away. Again it fell down, this time causing black streaks and a rather large dent in the foyer wall which I recently repainted.

Not quite as tickled this time, I was still able to manage a grin when I noticed the glass was still intact. I hung the picture-again-this time making sure it was fully connected to the tiny, metal hanger. On my knees I scrubbed the wall clean. Still on my knees Please make me like that glass-fragile but strong, visible but able to show the beauty of others, delicate but resilient to what life brings.

I Blame it on Silent Night

While I prepared lunch for my son today, he patiently drew pictures at the kitchen table. He also provided the entertainment by performing his one-man show where he tells me a great story, often impressing me with his vocabulary and unique retelling of a classic tale with his little tike twist.

Today's narrative was very loosely based on Little Red Riding Hood. As I slathered peanut butter on bread listening to the lengthy monologue, I nearly choked on the knife I was licking when my son said something about "a different virgin."

"What was that?" my voice squeaked.

"I'm doing a different virgin," he said.

As I forced back initial laughter and then a fainting spell, I asked my sweet just-turned-four-year-old, "You're doing a different (gulp) virgin?" My head raced. . . WHERE IN THE WORLD DID HE HEAR THAT WORD?!? WHAT DID MY HUSBAND LET THE KIDS WATCH?!? OH, NO! WILL I HAVE TO EXPLAIN WHAT IT IS RIGHT NOW?!?

"Yes, I'm telling a different virgin about the wolf," he piped up with a duh-mom look.

"Oooooohhhhhhh. Okay. (I am now breathing again.) You are telling a different v-e-r-s-i-o-n of the story," I sounded out.

"Yeah, veeeeeersion," he repeated.

"Oh, great. I love your veeeerrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiioooooooonnnnnnnnssssssssss of stories. Please tell me the rest." I paused for a huge sigh of relief.

I turned away to finish making lunch and listen intently to the rest of the story, very thankful that both the wolf and my son's innocence remained--at least until Cinderella shows up. And by then, I am hopeful that we will have told enough stories between us that he will pick the right version.