If I step back, I suppose it’s the same way with Dell and me in our relationship. We’re constantly keeping score of all the perceived injustices between us, which I’m sure hinders us from seeing all the good in our marriage.
I can only pray that Dell will play the game with me…
But for now, I’m tickled to see that one tiny little change in our game has brought a glimmer of hope. The game itself may yet fail, but I can see, hear, and feel the difference in the way my children interact, and it’s a beautiful change for the better.
Yesterday, for example, Cade pushed Bree’s hot buttons several times. I think he was just trying to see how she would react, given the rule change. In the morning he pointed out that her breath stank, but rather than yelling at him or making some rude comment about his intelligence, she actually thanked him for bringing it to her attention. Then she gave herself a point for restraining her emotions and marched straight to the bathroom and brushed her teeth! And in the afternoon, when he told her he’d just seen a six-year-old-girl trot by on the beach wearing the same ugly swimsuit as hers, she laughed it off and said that that little girl must have good taste.
When she was alone, I asked her why she didn’t lash out at his comments. Her answer made a lot of sense: “If he’s being mean, and I’m nice back, I win! It’s not easy, because deep down I still want to punch him, but smiling instead will help me get that hundred dollars.”
I’m not saying everything is suddenly perfect between them—after all, they are still rival siblings—but the tone and intent of their interactions has taken a noticeable turn for the better. Without the burden of focusing on everyone’s little shortcomings, they all seem more inclined to look for and embrace the positive.
Dear God…just let it last.
I’m nearing the end of another page in Grandma’s journal, when Bree knocks on my bedroom door, then waltzes in.
“What’cha up to?”
I finish reading the next sentence before answering. “Just reading. You?”
“I painted a picture of you and Dad. Want to see?” Without waiting for my reply she produces a small watercolor from behind her back. I have to look at it from several different angles before I see the forms of a man and a woman embracing.
“I can’t tell where I end and he begins.”
Bree smiles knowingly. “That’s kinda the idea.”
Aww…she really can be sweet when she wants to be.
I check my watch. It’s later than I thought. “Was Ann upstairs with you? I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Something flashes across her face, but I can’t read it. “No. I…um…I haven’t seen her in a while either.”
I still don’t want to stop reading, but I know I should. At least until I’m sure Ann is safe. Bree hands me her painting as I approach. “Can I keep it?”
“As long as you promise to show Dad.”
“Promise.”
After setting the painting on the nightstand in the next room, I find Cade on the deck with his slingshot, shooting popped popcorn into the air at a frenzied mob of seagulls. Where does he come up with these ideas? The other day I saw him out back with a fishing pole fixed up with a Buffalo Chicken Wing tied to the end of the line. He cast the line to a nearby seagull, and when the thing swallowed the piece of chicken whole, he began reeling it in. The gull, of course, had the chicken bone in its belly, so it was kind of stuck. It immediately took off flying, and eventually snapped the string, but for a few seconds, Cade had his very own living kite. “Hey, Sport, what’s with the poncho?”
“It’s for the—”
“Oh poop,” I groan as one of the seagulls swoops overhead and drops a white streak on my Polo windbreaker.
Cade is grinning from ear to ear. “Exactly.”
I retreat a few steps to the cover of the roof and begin carefully peeling off the jacket. “Hey, I was just looking for Ann. Have you seen her?”
He lowers his slingshot. “Like three or four hours ago. I saw her heading out the front door.”
“Did she tell you where she was going?”
He shrugs—not like he doesn’t know something, more like he’s not sure he should say.
“What did she say, Cade?”
“Uh…all she said was…uh…not to tell you that she was going.”
“Those were her exact words?”
“Uh-huh.”
I don’t wait to hear anything more. “Bree!” I yell through the doorway. “Ann took off!”
Cade quickly dumps the remaining popcorn over the side of the deck, to the delight of at least fifty diving birds, then tears off his poncho, and we hurry inside. Once we’re all together in the living room, I pelt him with more questions. When exactly did she leave? Did she say when she’d be back? Any idea where she was going? Why would she not want me to know?