"He will miss his mommy"

While Dana was at a class, I took Felix to soccer practice on a beautiful autumn day. We parked a ways away from the field and enjoyed the walk through the dry crunchy leaves. On the walk back to the car after practice, Felix picked up a stick that he wanted to bring home with us. I suggested we leave it with its other trees instead (reluctant to start the inevitable habit of bringing home every rock, bug, stick, etc. found). Felix was matter-of-fact in his desire for the stick to tag along, so I acquiesced. However, within a few blocks he expressed concern that the stick would “miss his mommy and daddy” and was insistent that we return to reunite it with its family. Not feeling in any rush, I humored him and circled back. Unfortunately, when the time came to relinquish said stick to the earth, Felix changed his mind. So once again I exited the park on our way home. By the time we got to the light, his regret in not returning the stick had become full force whining. By the freeway, it was whaling, and by our exit, it included tears. I had no desire to repeat the drive only to fail at negotiating the stick out of his hands again, so I continued on, hoping he would get over it quickly. There was no persuading him - we returned home, stick in hand, tears streaming. “It will miss his mommy and daddy. They will miss him. Go back. Go back.” As I cuddled him and helped him ease into a nap, he tucked the stick into bed next to him, still expressing concern that it would miss his mommy and should be back in the park. It was on his mind still when he woke but forgotten by the following week’s practice. The picture above is with Felix's best friend, April.