Thanks to my years of boring you all with the ridiculous minutiae of our lives blogging, I have at my fingertips a vast treasure trove of “when you were little” stories for the boys.
Tonight, for the first time, I crawled into each of their beds for our good-night cuddle and told them this story, the one about the day when little kindergartner Baxter asked the big boys on the playground if he could borrow their basketball for his baby brother. (Go read it – it’s amazing.)
The telling left Lyle a big bundle of gratitude for his brother; he hugged himself under the covers and asked, “Will you tell me that story again and again and again all night?” Later he ran to his brother’s bed, crawled in, and asked sweetly, “Do you love me, Baxter?”
As for Baxter, hearing this story for the first time left his eyes shining in the dark at the very thought of his own bravery and kindness. His church class had been discussing the concept of “compassion” with a Buddhist guest today, and I suggested that this was one of his early acts of compassion. He was incredibly proud to hear about it.
I’d have never in a million years remembered that story in such detail if I hadn’t written it down that day. I’m so happy to have all of these memories preserved.