Zoey is always giving me stuff to hold. Sure, there’s the normal stuff, like granola bar wrappers and used tissues. But then there’s the more concerning stuff: a sequins, a single piece of glitter, a quater inch piece of pink thread. Oh, and sometimes, a small, shiny “jewel” (otherwise known as a shard of glass). Zoey hands me these
pieces of crap treasures with great solemnity, looks me dead in the eyes and says, “Mommy, please take care of this for me. Don’t let anything happen to it.” When I don’t hold out my hand and immediately agree to be the keeper of her valuables, she blinks her big Bambi eyes at me and adds, “This is the most special thing I have ever found.”
For many years I was a total chump and agreed to guard her jewels, gems, and gold. Inevitably, I would lose the rock that was half the size of my pinkie nail or the single purple piece of glitter would get lost in the pocket of my jeans. Then, my friends, I would suffer. There were tears and tantrums and generalized terror. I was called out as a “bad mommy” on more than one occasion.
So now I no longer willingly accept treasures of any kind. When Zoey approaches me with a sequins and a small piece of ribbon, I back away. “Don’t give it to me!” I screech. “I don’t have any pockets!” I lie. “My hands are full!” Then, when she has me backed into a corner, “You know I can’t be trusted!”
But last week I got still got busted. Zoey has a special drawer where she keeps all her treasures.
Unbeknownst to me, the drawer is now only for most of her treasures. She decided to start keeping her most prized possession here:
It’s a tiny crack in our hardwood floor.
And this is the most prized possession:
What? You can’t see it? Let me zoom in.
That’s right. It’s a single sequins. A single, precious sequin that my daughter holds most dear. And guess what? The sequin met our Roomba last week. It didn’t survive. When Zoey checked her treasure spot there was drama/trauma (depending on who you ask). Both included tears and flailing of tiny fists.
Yet again I failed to keep a treasure safe.
But I am starting to notice a pattern. I am being asked to hold stuff less and less–even trash. Apparently my reputation has been so tarnished that I can’t even be trusted with a used tissue. And I’m okay with that.