Boy-Child Fell Asleep on My Shoulder on the Bus Ride Back

I just got back from boy-child's last field trip of the school year, to a historical village set in the late 1800s. The place was nicely run by grandma-type women, who were now, in the early season, full of patience. We got the tour of the old-fashioned school, a farm house, a toll house with authentic plank road out front. And, of course, the gift shop.

Gift shop?

Hmmm...didn't know that had THESE in the pioneer days.

This was a class of second-graders. They had from $1 to $5 each, depending on the generosity and ability of their parents. Once everyone got through the store and bought their rock candy and American flags and homemade purses and bags of marbles and wooden flutes, they congregated outside for an impromptu parade. It was quite charming. My boy-child declared himself 'Flag Boy' and led the line.

On the bus ride back, I watched the kids interact. It's funny when you're not a kid how you can look at kids and see the type of grown-up they'll become. These kids are 8 years old, tops, and the other moms and I could point out the scholars, the jocks, the thugs, and the invisible ones. One little boy kept sticking his hand in my bag of wooden toys I'd bought, and I had to literally pull his hand out and say, "No Way, Man! That's mine!" He also later tried to steal someone's flag. I told him to cut it the fuck out (not really, I left out the 'f' word, but he could tell I meant business...I heard him USE the 'f' word several times on the field trip...hmmm...wonder how HE'LL turn out??).

I'm just glad my boy-child is who he is. Bright, funny, shy, outgoing with his friends, honest, creative. And loving. I guess this is my ode to the boy-child today. Lovelovelove that kid.