Memories

I spent part of last weekend going through old boxes of papers I’ve kept over the decades. College reports, high school report cards, every letter, birthday and Christmas card anyone has ever sent me.  I’m sure this isn’t normal, but I keep thinking when I’m an old lady, I’ll sit down and read them all again.  I read a few this weekend, relived the past, and shoved them back in the box.  

Why I kept copies of old checks, electric bills from 1976 and travel brochures from the 1980s, I don’t know.  Those, I tossed.  I whittled down my inventory just enough to feel I’d spent the time wisely, but not so much that I’m worried I threw out good memories.  But I still have too many boxes. 

Of all my favorite pieces of paper to save, however, are the ones I scribbled on when my son was young.  He rarely says things now that get me to laugh like I used to, but some of his earlier words are priceless. 

The Mother’s Day that Kaleb was three-years-old, I thought, just for fun, I’d throw him a question that I was sure was over his head, just to see what he’d say. “On a scale of 1 to 10,” I said, “how would you rate me as a mother, with ten being the best mother in the whole world, and one being the worst.”  I didn’t think he’d even understand the concept, yet he thought about it for a minute then said, “You’re a fiver.  Sometimes you can be a six or a seven though.” 

At age four, he kept getting out of his seat at the table and I got angry and told him to pretend his butt is “glued to the chair and to just sit there.”  Seconds later he got up again so I said, “What’s going on?”  To which he replied, “Oh, the glue isn’t sticking very good.”

Picking Kaleb up from preschool one day I told him I was very proud of him that he’d never gotten a “time out” there.  

He responded with a certain tone, “Well, you’ll have to ask Teacher Cindy about that.”   I was surprised, assuming he’d actually gotten one, so I asked, “What did you get a timeout for?” He replied, “How do you know I got a time out?”  I said, “I’m taking a big guess, based on what you just said.”  

When I dropped him off at pre-school the next time, I asked Teacher Cindy about his time out.  She said he’d never gotten one.  So I turned to Kaleb and asked, “Well then, what was that all about?”  He replied, “You guessed wrong.” 

Approaching his fifth birthday, completely out of the blue Kaleb said, “This year for my birthday and Christmas, I don’t want anything because I have enough.”  I questioned him a bit on that then he said, “Remember, be happy with what you have.  I have enough.”

Don’t we all.  I have more than enough.