One Spring Morning
I marvel at how calm and collected Sam is as he reports to me that Tom has
spit rain-barrel water in his face. I suggest that we go talk to Tom, so we
walk together and Sam takes my hand as he confidently says, “You will go with
me.” I must admit I am beginning to swell with righteous indignation, but we
approach Tom and I quietly tell him that there seems to be a problem, and I
take his hand also. Sam matter-of-factly relates this misdeed again.
“Sorry,” is Tom’s reply. But Sam continues, this time
speaking to Tom directly: “‘Was that a nice thing to do?”
“No,” admits Tom. Sam goes on. “‘Where’s that nice boy?’
(That’s what my mom says.)”
“Uh….I ate him,”says Tom. “He’s too big,” says Sam. Then
he leans gently toward Tom, puts his forehead near his and whispers, “Be a
nice boy.”
By this time both boys are smiling and resume playing together,
building dams in the rushing spring stream.
Meanwhile, Oliver has caught the frogs that have awakened only days ago and
that are happily croaking in the pond. The children wonder why they are holding
on to each other. Finally Devon announces, “They’re mating!” Oliver places
them gently in a smaller pot and says reverently, “We need to have a
ceremony…. Red frog, do you take this black frog as your groom?” Then he
turns to the others and announces, “We need to make a mating cake.” The rest
of the morning passes in the sand box “bakery.”
