The true worth of a soul

My mother-in-law is coming to watch the baby tomorrow at our house because I'm getting my hair done for the first time since June. Small mammals are nesting in it at night. I know this is true because of intricately tied knots I discover in it every morning. Sometimes there are small twigs and Tootsie Roll wrappers, too. I don't even eat Tootsie Rolls. The snarls are making me nuts and that's always the sign that it needs a trim.

Anyway, as I was saying, my MIL is coming tomorrow, so you know what that means....time to clean the house like crazy. Which we did. My husband and I even helped our nine-year-old reverse the tide of serious toy encroachment taking place in his room, violating my firm policy that I don't clean up messes I didn't make. But that's where the baby goes down for his nap, ergo my MIL will be in there, and so it had to be done.

My nine-year-old came up to me just before bedtime, something cupped carefully in his cute, grubby hand.

"I want to give you this for helping me tonight," he said. From behind his back he took a little index card sized water color painting he had done, Scotch tape stuck haphazardly on it, and said, "I'm going to put this on the wall next to your bed." Then he said, "I also want you to have this," and he opened his fist to carefully count out five pennies for me. "Thank you," he said.

It times like this that I have to pause in the craziness that is life and wonder at its gifts, and also over questions like, "WTH?! Five PENNIES?"

I'm thinking I need to unionize.