Opening two grimy, chubby hands, he reveals today's treasures: four dead pill bugs, a jay feather, crumpled autumn leaves, snail shells (empty, thank God), and three slightly scuffed pennies. The Fort Knox of a preschooler.
I smile and open my hands, humbled by the honor of guarding his private hoard. We walk and talk. He's convinced of my omniscience. I know the truth too well as I field and flub his questions:
"How come the birds always fly away from me? Why doesn't the cat talk? See that dinosaur cloud? Why did God let grandpa die? How come He lets some people be rich and some be poor? What is she so fat? God did NOT make broccoli. He only made ice cream."
And today's gem: "Mommy, do you know why Peter sank on the Sea of Galilee? It was because he forgot his floaties!
I used to say "No" when people asked, "Do you work?" When the question comes now, however, as it inevitably does, I smile and say, "You bet! Ever Professional Mother does."
Just ask their preschooler.
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