My son likes band-aids. Don’t we all? But he really, really adores band-aids. He thought he’d put one on his blue piggybank. Which we couldn’t find. He was sad. Little sad-faced Wacky Boy. Because he had the band-aid all ready.

“Mom, we don’t want to waste band-aids.”

No, son, we don’t.

So I find his dad’s piggy bank. It was a wedding gift. It’s a purple elephant with blue polka dots. (Don’t ask. To this day I don’t get the joke.) It’s full of foreign coins. They Could Be Worth Money. Wacky Boy plasters the band-aid on the elephant. All good. Then later, he finds the blue piggybank. (It’s shaped like an actual pig. Go figure.) He has it in bed with him when I go to check on him.

“Look what I fouuuuuuuuund!” he sings out. Another band-aid. We’re good.

Now it’s ten p.m. I’m tired. More tired than my children. My daughter has started another Boxcar Children mystery, the one she just finished was not enough for her.

Clink.
Clink.
Clank.

It’s Wacky Boy. He’s pulled the stopper out of the elephant, there are foreign coins everywhere. I’m too tired to pick up.

“Show those to dad tomorrow, he’ll love that.” (Smart mommy, no? Then he can pick them all up — a Father’s Day gift!)

“Baby, wash your hands. Those coins get dirty — they go everywhere. All around the world!” His sister puts the book aside; flips off the light. He scoots into the bathroom.

“Coins are everywhere,” he tells me somberly, “Even in your underwear.” I’m laughing. He’s serious — no smile.

“God, please, go. To. Bed!

“God is everywhere, Mom, even in your underwear.”

I’m really hoping God is not in my underwear. It’s fine with me if he’s everywhere else.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, ALL YOU DADDOs OUT THERE! Party on.

Love,

WM