It's Just an Egg
When we got back from the library this afternoon, Aidan went straight out back to check for eggs. The duty has naturally fallen upon his shoulders the past few weeks. He came back in without eggs, and without his shorts.
Turns out he put the eggs in his pockets, and one of the eggs broke. So he took off his shorts and left them in front of the coop, which I suppose makes sense if you're a six year old boy. I went out back to retrieve the shorts and the surviving eggs, and found one egg intact in one pocket, and one pocket full of goo.
I thought about getting upset. Then I decided to get my camera. For some reason, taking pictures of little disasters like these helps me put things in perspective. And perspective is exactly what I need right now. You see, despite all that is going well in my life, I'm feeling a bit cracked up. There's no good reason, no satisfactory explanation, it's just the way I'm feeling right now. No one dropped me or squeezed me into a pocket; it's coming from the inside.
In fact, the outside world is doing all that it can to mend my broken shell. I made a new friend from an online acquaintance over the weekend at the Homeschoolers of California convention. Patricia of Wonder Farm is just as warm and endearing in person as she is on her blog. I can't wait to see her again.
Yesterday I received several wonderful emails from friends, showering me with love and affection. When I came in from doing yard work last night, I discovered that my son had cleaned his room and my daughter had voluntarily started working in her fourth grade math book. Today in the mail I received two fantastic packages from blog friends abroad. Life is good!
After taking several pictures of Aidan's gooey pockets, I took his shorts to the kitchen sink to wash them out. As I drained the broken egg down the disposal I heard a thud.
"Oh mom! I guess that egg is broken now too!", Aidan said as he sat on the side of the sink washing off his hands.
I nearly cried. For little did I know that in the pocket with the broken egg was a perfectly good unbroken egg. I know it's just an egg, but an egg is an egg, and sad is sad. I'll get over it. Tomorrow we'll collect more perfect eggs, but I'll send the boy out with a basket. And in time my memory of broken shells will fade, and my own shell will mend.
Posted by Molly at 5:39 PM