15. Sending Green Bean, barely three, out to the garden to find a tomato for our lunch.
16. The eagerness and gladness on his face as he turns to fulfill my request. The purpose in his steps as he picks his way through tangled pumpkin vines to the tomato plants.
17. His thoughtful, careful selection. Pick one...no, it has a hole. Discard. Pick another, no, again, rot has eaten it away on one side. Pick a third...okay, this one is whole. He makes his way out of the garden towards the house. "Is it a good one?" I call through the open kitchen window. "It's squishy," he says. "Oh. Could you find me one that isn't squishy?" I ask, knowing it's a difficult task in my mostly gone by garden. He turns around, picks his way back to the plants, and resumes his search. This time he picks one, examines it, and confidently heads for the house. "Did you find a good one?" I call. "Yes," he smiles. He brings it in to me, and it is indeed a good tomato.
18. The pride I feel welling up every time a son learns to do something new.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
1,000 Gifts
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1 comment:
This is a jewel. As a mother who wants to hang on to the sweet every day memories like this one, but knows how easily they fade away since we tend to remember mostly the 'big' stuff, I applaud you for recording it. In fact, if I were you I would download and save it in every possible form, including printing a copy to frame. I'm not kidding. Anybody can write about going to Disneyworld. You captured the sweetest details of your son picking a tomato. It doesn't get much better than that!
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