*
Last night, Julius looked at me and smiled.”Mommy, can I
please stay at VBS tomorrow? I promise I won’t cry, and there is a class for
fours.” There is a class for threes at Vacation Bible School, too, but last year when I dropped him off, he
cried the entire time I was gone. Lesson learned and this year I gave him the
option. Monday, day one, he chose to stay home with Lee and the baby and I. But
his earnest little plea last night changed my mind.
After I dropped the big kids off at their hallway, I walked
with Jules to his classroom. He wanted to hold my hand. We walked in together.
The teacher was a pretty woman, just a little older than me, with short blonde
hair and a stripe of pink that caught my eye. “I like your hair,” she said,
glancing at my now-all-pink-in-the-front-subtler-blue-in-the-back mop.
“I like yours, too,” I replied.
Looking down at Jules, his eyes were welling up with tears,
and his grip on my hand was tight. He was looking around the room, checking out
the toys and the children. I asked if it would be all right if I walked in with
him for a little bit, and she said of course it was fine. We sat Indian style on a carpet next to a
carton of plastic food toys and a wooden play stove. He pawed through the plastic crates of toys
until he found something that pleased him – noisy plastic powertools. His
favorite was a plastic saw with tiny turning plastic gears that made a pleasant
grinding noise. As he sawed a pretty child-sized table, he visibly relaxed. As
I was telling him goodbye, a male helper came over and took over playing with
the tools. Gabriel and I slipped away and headed home to Lee.
An hour and a half later the phone rang – it was the church.
I was sure it was Julius sobbing uncontrollably.
But it wasn’t – it was Elijah, who had apparently come down
with pinkeye between home and the church. After a quick tussle with Lee over whether or
not to pick the other kids up early or whether to sit in the parking lot or go
to the store in between, we headed over to the church to pick Elijah up from
the foyer. His eyes did look red and slightly crusty.
Another hour and a half later it was time to pick the kids
up. I climbed the staircase to his room and as soon as I crested the stairs I
could hear his little voice. “I can do it! I can wipe my hands!” I knew it was
him right away.
My footsteps were faster as I moved toward the sound. When
he saw me, he broke into a grin, “MOM! Look, Mom, I got a medal! I won a game! We all won! Here,
Mom, you can wear it.” He pulled the little plastic medallion off his neck and
wrapped it around mine. My heart sang.
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