My son has a black hoodie that he never gets the chance to wear because his mother usually has it on. Yes, even in the house since the humidity here has me freezing while everyone else is above comfortable temperatures. (During the week I can get away with the furnace up higher - can't have sick kiddies can I?)
About a month ago my son walks up to me and tells me to check my pocket. I know there isn't anything in my pocket. So I tell him so. Again he tells me to check my pocket. I stop whatever I'm doing and look at him. Okay, I'll check my pocket. There is something in my pocket. A Pearson's Mint Pattie. :) My son giving me one of his treasured mints.
Fast forward a week later and we're off to cub scouts. Since my daughter is the opposite of me with body temperature controls, she didn't bring a jacket and gets cold. After a few minutes of her shivering, I offer her the black hoodie. She gladly takes it.
The next day - where is my, I mean my son's, hoodie? Sigh. Will I ever see it again?
That was 3 weeks ago. Saturday morning rolls around and we're off to the church to see if I can find the black hoodie. We look on all of the coat racks, nope - not showing up. Can't get to lost and found, the library is locked. Well, she thinks it's on the stage so we'll go look there. And sure enough, there is a black hoodie off to the side. But is it mine? I mean, it's been 3 weeks and there sure are a lot of hoodies around. I wouldn't want to take someone else's. So we're looking at it, trying to determine if there's anything on it that says - hey, I'm yours! So I check the pockets. Nothing in the first one. Try the next. And there it is. The Pearson's Mint Pattie my son gave me a month ago. :) He's so awesome!
Welcome home black hoodie!
i do love that son of yours.
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