Sometimes it’s the little conversations you overhear that make your day. Yesterday, my almost-ten-year-old son was driving me crazy. The truth is, school is not designed for boys who can’t sit still. He needs to move, and by the time he gets home on a blustery winter day, it’s only a matter of minutes before he is antsy, bothering me or his sisters because he is bored.
I stood over him like a slave-driver, badgering him to do his homework. When he got a math problem wrong that I saw him rush through, I made him do it again. “Mom, you are SO mean. I hate you. I hate school. I hate homework.” His frustration grew, and he looked for ways to purposely annoy me.
When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I sent him off to the basement to play knee hockey, and told him to take his little sister with him. Off they went, leaving me wondering if I would have time to cook dinner before the first altercation broke out..
We have a small desk in the basement with two filing cabinets, and I had left a stack of bills and various letters from routine medical appointments out to put away. One or more had clearly fallen onto the floor, because before I knew it, my son was reading aloud:
“Dear Ms. Brooke Spater,
We would like to take this opportunity to thank you for visiting our facility. Our mammography (he pronounced it: ma-ma-graphy) center is accredited by The American College of (it said Radiology, but instead he said “Blah blah blah, this word makes no sense at all”).
Your recent mammography (again, I heard ma-ma-graphy) examination performed on 11/27/13 (so this was actually done over a year ago, I just have not made time to file it away), which may have included additional views and/or ultrasound, indicates there is NO radiographic evidence of breast cancer.”
My son quickly said to his sister, “PHEW! That is SUCH good news.” She enthusiastically agreed, and subsequently takes her place in the goal so her brother can pummel her with shots.
It’s good to feel loved!