When I was little, we went to the beach every year. And every time we went, my dad built sand castles, took me in the ocean and, once every trip, he dug a fabulous tunnel in the sand.
I didn't know until years later that my dad actually hates sand. Passionately hates it. Learning that was one of the first things that made me start to understand what being a parent - a really good parent - really means, and how much my dad loved (well, loves) me and wanted me to be happy.
On our way home on the Metro on Wednesday night, Brian played with Christopher while I read. After a few minutes, he said quietly "Look at this."
Brian's arm was covered in farm stickers. Christopher was taking them out of his sticker book and putting them on Brian's arm while he worked on finding the right pictures to match them to.
Brian hates stickers more than just about anything in the world. But he was just sitting quietly and watching Christopher put stickers on his arm and take them off again and not even flinching. I felt like my mom must have when she watched my dad, elbow deep in sand and not letting on in any way that he wasn't too happy about it.
I didn't get a very good picture of the scene, but I'll always remember it.
No comments:
Post a Comment