Junior has been returning from preschool with pockets full of rocks. I didn't think anything about it since Abs is always hauling them around.
Today I picked him up and his pockets were stuffed full.
We started walking out towards the car, holding hands, and talking about his day.
Then Junior dropped my hand and picked up a tiny purplish rock and held it tightly in his dirty little palm. (Seriously, anyone that has a boy that isn't always dirty, please tell me how you do it.)
I started buckling him in his carseat.
Me: That's a pretty rock.
Junior: This one will work.
Junior: Yep, the other ones were broken.
Me: You keep bringing home broken rocks?
Junior: I didn't break them.
I got in the car. Buckled up. Started driving home.
I hear Junior in the backseat.
Junior: I wish I wish with all my heart....for my daddy to come home.
He waited a few minutes and then I hear his tiny little voice.
Junior: Oh man, this one is broken too.
My poor little guy....
Treehouse Without a Tree
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