>The Note

>

Today is the day before Favorite Secretary’s birthday. The cool thing about working in an elementary school is that we have access to 364 Birthday Song Singers. And man, they are enthusiastic. This is not 4 bored, eye-rolling servers in the Red Robin. This is the real deal. We belted that bad boy out. Between the singing, the brownie tower, funny card, and desk decorations, very little got done after about 11am.

Here is a totally unrelated story (I can do that because it’s my blog):

I have a funny relationship with a 3 year-old who visits the school on a near daily basis. His older brother is a kinder and his mama is the PTA queen. Bam-Bam is a small, somber little boy with huge dark brown eyes and blond hair. A winning combination. For the first few weeks of school, if I walked near him, he would stand up, walk behind his mom, and announce, “NOOOO!”. He would stand on the bench in front of the office and watch me with his Bambi eyes. There’s a pass through window where he stands. The first time I stuck my arm through and poked him in the back of the head, you would think I was Stranger Danger about to claim a new victim.

I can’t help it. The more obstinate they are, the more I want to harass them. It’s a worthy challenge.

Over the past few months, we’ve been increasing our conversation time. He’s spoken whole sentences at me. Granted, he usually waits until I’ve given up and walked away, but I’ve gotten sneaky and now will round the corner and stop so I can peek back at him. This will elicit a grin- and then he runs away. Well, I hit the jackpot today.

BB: There is some paper [pointing to the stack of scratch paper on FS’s desk]
Me: Yep. It’s really good for notes. You want one?
BB: [huge eyes. shrugs.]
Me: [Reading aloud] Dear Bam Bam: I think you are cool. Love, Nurse Sara

BB’s mom then asks him if he sees his name on the paper: “B-A-M-B-A-M! BamBam! At the top!” (this is a smart kid)

BamBam is a near clone of his older brother. Both boys are quiet, observant, and somber. Beautiful brown eyes. At the end of the day I hear BB’s mom outside my office. She’s telling Big Brother to go ask me something. I hear the word “Note”. I poke my head around the corner and see BB standing in the doorway, shoulders back, chest puffed. He’s holding The Note. I then see a leg sticking out from behind Mama. And the side of a very red face. Once my task has been identified, I make a new note- this one for big brother-  and take it to him. He snags it from my hand. His mom is trying to get him to say thank you, and the poor kid is so embarrassed he’s starting to tear up. I can’t take the torture and retreat to my office to finish closing up for the day. After a few minutes I peek out the window and see the boys laughing and talking excitedly, both holding their special notes.

I had Absolutely. No. Idea. that a teeny little sentence had so much power. What a quick and easy way to share the love. So many of our kids don’t get positive attention from adults. I was raised in an absolutely beautiful environment and before I became a nurse, I would have never guessed at the level of disregard for some of these children. So, all 3 of you lovely readers out there, think of The Note and take a second to give an unexpected bit o’ love to someone. I’d bet a million dollars and a stack of brownies that you’ll be smiling after.

Advertisement

2 responses to “>The Note

  1. >Ummm there are 6 of us , count them~ Just because my photo will NOT post #%^7@ ! I am here laughing till I wet my pants.

  2. >@Leslie: I performed a very complex calculation involving relative sanity of my followers vs. the general public and came up with 3. =P But really, I can't see my followers on this browser and forgot to make my number at LEAST that high. =) Love you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s