Guys in my pocket.

Walking Caden to school has been the sweetest part of my days since he started Kindergarten last week. After dealing with sleepy-eyed, surly teens, barely masking their demands as requests, his smiling little face and chatty good humor are a refreshing turn in the morning road. Every morning, he asks the same thing "Can we be guys on the way to school?"

This activity of making inanimate hunks of plastic come to life with voice and movement isn't a totally foreign concept. When the plastic was in Barbie form, I could do it for hours in my early years. Having my mother's afternoon soap operas to provide lots of dramatic scenario ideas, these dolls lived on the brink of ecstasy or disaster every moment. Plastic in Transformer, Lego, Power Ranger or other boyishly masculine form is a lot more challenging. Power Rangers don't go on dates, or find out they have a terminal illness. Nor do they fight over who gets the man. They pretty much just defend the citizens with any means necessary while they are on patrol of the 4 blocks between here and Washington Elementary School. There is a bit of drama when the enemy is the next block over, but the evil 'Don't Walk' sign is mockingly preventing us from destroying him. These adventures are a real 'think outside the box' activity for me.

After he's marched in a line to Mrs. Haught's classroom, I am left holding 'the guys'. They become symbolic, a precious reminder of our brief time together on the trek to school. They are very carefully deposited deep into my pocket, so I can place them on his bureau, and he can smile a little, too, when he comes home and remembers the morning.