October 13th marks one of many different milestones in our relationship. Over the years, and after two children, most of these get marked with a brief mention, a few nice moments of reflection, and then back to the arduous task of keeping our sanity. I expected nothing more yesterday. What I got was an incredible reminder of what this is all about.
Henry, as you know, has become enamored with Silly Bandz. When I got to his school yesterday afternoon, I was immediately greeted by a beaming child with a completely bandz-less arm raised toward me shouting, “I don’t have any more Silly Bandz.” For days he had been wearing what amounts to three packages worth (minus the VERY few he gave away) and those accumulated from the classmates willing to part with some of theirs. “I gave them to everyone in my class.” I looked at the circle of children smiling…listening to their teacher reading a book. They were all wearing Silly Bandz. Henry had a solitary brown one on his arm that Quinn, his very sweet classmate, had given him “because [he] was nice to her.”
I was proud of him. Really proud. All I could think about was getting more bandz™. I remembered that we drive right by Bed, Bath & Beyond on the way to Eleanor’s school. The only reason I thought of that place is because it's pretty much where the bandz all began for us. Henry spent a few weeks coveting Vinny’s collection before Diane saw a giant sign in front of B,B&B that said “WE’VE GOT SILLY BANDZ!” So, Henry and I quickly ran into the store to find some replacements. On the way, Henry started penning the letter he wanted to write to Quinn, unannounced and unprecedented:
“I want to write Quinn a letter. It says, “Dear Quinn, Thank you for being nice.”
When I told Diane this story, she teared up. What seems like a silly gesture is very profound for our three year old who recently went from being the sole existing most important thing on this planet for us to the older one who needs to stop shouting at his sister and be a good listener. He loved those bandz. And he gave them all away.
I finally got mine last night…. after Diane, his entire class, and the various random children at playgrounds and farmer’s markets across this town. I didn’t really earn it, since he overheard me telling Diane I still didn’t have one. He walked in from the other room and nonchalantly said, “You can have one, Dad.” He was clearly oblivious to the snub. Mine is a yellow ship, I think… given to him by someone else. I love it. It is a great reminder of why we had children. And it is a great milestone marker for how far we have come.
Last night as Diane and I were going to bed, we talked about what it means to be parents and how our lives have changed. We talked about our friends who have children, those who just had them…or who are about to…and what that means. I consider myself very fortunate to have had children at a stage in my life when I could appreciate the fact that I am happier and more satisfied when I make the bulk of my decisions for someone else. Not everyone has that opportunity, but I am so thankful I do.
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