My older son waves this over-sized, fake, arrestingly green $100 bill in our faces after dinner.
"What is it?"
"It's a wish list for One Hundred Dollars!", is the excited answer, with an impish smile.
"You're rich!"
I open the dollar bill and read on its blank inside - Things I WILL buy for $100...A toy (my son has drawn a picture of an indoor remote-controlled helicopter under this pronouncement). This is followed with - Things I WILL NOT buy for $100...A cat. (???)
"Sweetie, cats needn't cost $100," I point out. "You can give a stray a home, or pick one at the Humane Society."
"But I DON'T want to buy a cat," he insists, with a nod to make his point.
"Why not?"
"BECAUSE...Daddy is allergic to them," comes the quiet answer.
What else does one do upon hearing such a reply but embrace this litte soul and draw him close?
This boy - whose big brown eyes fill up when watching ads for animal shelters and the broken animals who wait to be adopted and to be showered with affection...who cares for those weaker and younger than himself (such as his younger brother and toddler friends)...also cares for those older and physically stronger than himself.
The last pet we had - a much loved tomcat - got lost in September 2009. We haven't given up hope that he might come back, but my older son has recently begun asking to adopt a pet. Yet he doesn't want one that sheds hair (his Dad would start sneezing), is slimy (I would run more than a mile), and that needs to be taken on walks, etc (he knows both his parents are struggling to cope with the current routine). He is content to wait for a tortoise we have promised him. More than being his mother, I think I am his student, learning to be a better person from his example.
God bless you, darling.
"What is it?"
"It's a wish list for One Hundred Dollars!", is the excited answer, with an impish smile.
"You're rich!"
I open the dollar bill and read on its blank inside - Things I WILL buy for $100...A toy (my son has drawn a picture of an indoor remote-controlled helicopter under this pronouncement). This is followed with - Things I WILL NOT buy for $100...A cat. (???)
"Sweetie, cats needn't cost $100," I point out. "You can give a stray a home, or pick one at the Humane Society."
"But I DON'T want to buy a cat," he insists, with a nod to make his point.
"Why not?"
"BECAUSE...Daddy is allergic to them," comes the quiet answer.
What else does one do upon hearing such a reply but embrace this litte soul and draw him close?
This boy - whose big brown eyes fill up when watching ads for animal shelters and the broken animals who wait to be adopted and to be showered with affection...who cares for those weaker and younger than himself (such as his younger brother and toddler friends)...also cares for those older and physically stronger than himself.
The last pet we had - a much loved tomcat - got lost in September 2009. We haven't given up hope that he might come back, but my older son has recently begun asking to adopt a pet. Yet he doesn't want one that sheds hair (his Dad would start sneezing), is slimy (I would run more than a mile), and that needs to be taken on walks, etc (he knows both his parents are struggling to cope with the current routine). He is content to wait for a tortoise we have promised him. More than being his mother, I think I am his student, learning to be a better person from his example.
God bless you, darling.
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