When Your Child Turns Out To Be You

My 7th grader Julian has been selling dark chocolate with almond See's Candy bars as a fundraiser to offset his cost of attending a band tour to Southern California.  On Sunday I asked to see how much candy he had left to sell and assist in the money reconciliation.  His response, "About that ...".  Never a good sign.  It turns out that on Friday the box of candy and envelope of money were carelessly forgotten under his desk after sixth period.  He conveniently neglected to tell me about the mistake and was praying (to all forms of deity) that it would be right where he left it, bright and early Monday morning.

Yeah, right.  No one is that lucky.

Bring on the lecture.  After calmly explaining that I would now have to pay to replace the bars (because he spent all of his savings on the previous box) and my writing a check defeated the entire purpose of fundraising (insert Charlie Brown's teacher speaking) I opened my laptop and we sent a quick note to his sixth period teacher.  She was lovely and immediately responded, "I will check first thing but I didn't see anything when I left after sixth period."

What we both heard with fingers crossed: so you're saying there's hope?

I couldn't get mad.  Why?  I was reminded of a certain Bobby Sox softball season.  6th grade.  Taylor circa 1987 and a box of milk chocolate with almond World's Finest Chocolate bars aimlessly forgotten at the school bike stall.  That afternoon I slowly peddled home, fingers crossed on the handle bars, promising God I would try not to talk too much at school and half believing the box would magically be waiting on my front doorstop.  In reality, me at home, getting the stand-in-the-corner-while-I-yell-at-you treatment from my mother and only hearing (Wah wah wah wah wah wah wah).  Yes, the sound of Charlie Brown's teacher speaking.  Oh how history repeats itself.

I like to think in the present day scenario Julian was actually listening.  I can't guarantee it.  Nodding your head in agreement is a very simple exercise that can easily be perfected over the years.  Quick hint: wide, glassy eyes are a tell-tale confirmation that someone is hearing but not listening.  Trust me, I know that nod and glass eyed expression.  Oh, how I know it.  

What struck me most in that moment wasn't the mistake or the the praying or the hoping that all will be well in the world on Monday morning.  I added this chocolate bar incident to the never-ending list of Julian-ism's and with happy, amused realization I couldn't help but grin, I have seen this all before ... my son is a mini-me.  Well, almost like me.  In his case the chocolate and money were exactly where he left them under his desk Monday morning.  I guess the prayer gene skips a generation.  Oh, that lucky, lucky kid.