Liam wanted to talk about something that had been bothering him. He’s increasingly unwilling to do that these days, so I was delighted to sit with him in the bedroom and listen to the story of a fight he had with his dear friend, who we’ll call Luther. He and Luther had words about some soccer rule, Luther got really angry, started to cry (hugely embarrassing for a ten year old boy, of course), and for the rest of the day was furious with Liam. Wouldn’t sit next to him in class, the whole deal.
“I tried to think about it from his shoes, mommy, but I just don’t know what I did that made him so mad.” Liam climbed onto my lap, which was delightful not only for the sheer snuggle factor but also because –parenting points!—he’d actually tried to imagine his behavior from the perspective of someone else.
True, he failed, but hey. At least he tried.
So we’re in the middle of this snuggly moment and Caleb waltzes in, drops a letter on the floor next to me and makes a clarion announcement: “I almost have lice!”