My son won a dollar from his Me-Maw for spelling his name Monday night. I told him I'd take him to the dollar store for whatever his tiny heart desired the next day after preschool.
He reached for my hand as we crossed the street to the store, and asked me to hold his dollar so he wouldn't lose it. Juni insisted on carrying his own basket for his one treasure.
He perused the isles, debating bubbles and chalk and jump ropes and coloring books.
"Mommy! I need dis!" He says. I turn around, and his tiny tanned hands are clutching an unpainted wooden cross.
"Ummm...Okay...Are you sure Juni? Remember, you get one thing...What are you planning to do with that, baby?"
"Mommy. I not a baby anymore. I a big boy. Like Daddy. I eat beets last night, and now my muscles grow big and strong like Daddy. I want to paint this at home. I want to paint this fross at home with hearts and put it on my Nanny's head when she dead."
Okay. Let me expand. Remember, Juni is 4. Every day, we drive past a cemetery. A cemetery that seems to have a funeral at least once a week. He understands what a cemetery is, and why people are there. But he insists those people are there for a party, and he'd like to go say hi. He also has a obsession with where his Nanny and PaPa will be buried. They're 80 and 85, and I really do think he understands that they're old and will inevitably die.
So when Juni said he wanted to put the cross on her head when she died, he actually meant that he'd like to leave it at the grave.
"Ummm...Okay...but Nanny isn't dying anytime soon, I don't think. Are you still sure? This jump rope is pretty cool."
"Yes. Come on, mommy. I need to get home and paint. You get my paints for me when I get home? I not supposed to go in your drawer, you know."
"Okay....but how about you spell your name for me real quick, and you can get one of those toys you've been eyeing?"
He sings "J.....U.....N.....I!!! I fink I want dat jumpin rope, mommy. You have one of those when you a gurl?"
We get home and Juni spends 30 minutes painting his wooden cross, which is like 3 weeks in toddler time. He insists I call Nanny and get PaPa to drive her over immediately. It's 3:30 pm, which is like midnight in old people time.
They drive the 28 miles and knock on the door before the paint is even dried. I told her the story, minus the detail that one day that cross will help mark her grave.
Nanny doesn't drive anymore. She quit voluntarily about a year ago. She doesn't visit friends, and is rapidly approaching senility. And Juni is her world. She lives to visit him and play with him. And when he handed over that multi-colored Dollar Store cross, she literally didn't know what to say. And neither did I. I was so proud and touched by my son, that there were no words.
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