I feel like this afternoon I got a small peak into the window of the kind of person/man that Sully will some day be.You always pray your kid grows up to do the right thing. You hope even more so (or at least I do) that they learn to do the right thing by their own accord.
There have been so many occasions I've been proud of my son. He's a big kid, with a gentle spirit. He never hits other kids. He shares. He says thank you and bless you and runs to see if you're okay when something falls or breaks. He helps people in the store when they drop something. He thanked our vet for fixing his dog when she was sick, all on his own. I tend to sometimes forget those moments when they seem to get canceled out by the day-to-day power struggles of growing up. Like when he's still up at 10PM, at 2AM or 4AM refusing to sleep, is screaming for candy instead of his dinner, hiding in a closet because he doesn't want to listen or running his mouth and tantruming (is that even a word?!) because we won't let him blow a hockey whistle at 6 AM in the morning.
And so I'm thankful for moments like this afternoon. They remind me of what sometimes can be so easy to overlook.
After saying goodbye to his teachers and friend's for pickup, we started walking to our truck. As we rounded the sidewalk and I opened the door, he put his head down and mumbled something. I threw our stuff in the car and got down on my knee and asked him what he had said.
"I got a time-out today."
I was a little surprised because one, he's never got a time-out before and two, his teacher never mentioned anything of it when we were just talking. So I replied calmly, "Oh. Well, do you want to tell me what happened?"
"Me-Sully-Me, and J. and S. were playing by the fence and we were playing Mario Bros. and we got a time-out for fighting."
I worked hard to hide the smile that was starting to form.
"Who gave you the time-out? Were you not listening?"
"Teacher J. And no. I had to sit down."
At this point I started to slowly get him into the car and buckle him in. I thought carefully about my next words. I didn't want to scare him or discourage him from telling me things in the future, so I chose carefully.
"I'm really proud that you thought it was a good idea to tell me. If S. or J. are doing something that's naughty, it doesn't mean you have to too. You can just walk away. I'm not mad at you, we all make mistakes. But I don't think its a good idea we get a time-out again because you seem to be sad about it."
He thought for a few minutes as I stood in our car door in the parking lot with his head down and my hand on his legs. "Yeh, I feel bad."
Its what he said next that made my heart smile this time.
"I think I need to go say I'm sorry to Teacher J. Will you come with me?"
I smiled, kissed him and unbuckled him. He marched himself, on his own accord, back into his school and found his teacher. "I'm sorry Teacher J. for getting in the time-out and not listening."
His teacher's eyes started to well up a little bit and she smiled and gave him a huge hug. She admitted that Sully was just an innocent bystander of his older friends play, but he must of thought that he was in trouble too - guilty by association this kid. As we were leaving (and laughing a little about how guilty he felt - I promise not to his face) she told me
"Steph, I'm 'gonna tell you, I have a real soft spot for this one. He's a great kid. You have quite a special boy on your hands here."
"I know Miss. J. I know. It's like getting to look into the future a little bit."
Yesterday morning on our way to school
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