This week there is a book fair at John's school. So, last night, I pulled out my wallet and took out several dollars and put them in a Ziploc bag marked "BOOK FAIR." It wasn't much, but it was all the cash I had. He said thanks, stuck it in his backpack, and then we all sacked out before 8 p.m., which is how it goes at our house these days.
This morning, at 6 a.m., I opened my eyes, and there stood John-John, beside my bed with with two dollars in his hand.
"Mom, thanks so much for giving me the book fair money. But I don't want you to have nothing in your wallet, so I dug these dollars out of my GIVING jar for you."
"You don't have to do that, sweet. I don't need cash for anything today, so I'll be alright."
"No, I want you to have this money, Mom. You never know."
Then he socked me in the arm and left.
I'm at work now. Just finished teaching two classes. I'm hungry, but I somehow managed to pack an EMPTY lunchbox for myself. So, I just took my $2 to the snack machine and got -- in honor of him -- some cheesy crackers and a Sprite.
Moments like these make all the WHAT-IS-WRONG-WITH-YOU-STOP-PLAYING-THAT-KAZOO-AND-SPITTING-ON-YOUR-BROTHER moments worthwhile.