Black

My boy lost his folder. He went to his teacher and told her. She responded that if he lost it, he would need to replace it.

image: actionenvelope.com

I searched the garage for one of the many, many folders I purchased when the back-to-school sales were on. I searched and searched, but the only one I could locate was a black one. Black.

I took it into the house declaring that I'd located one.

He took it from me and said, "Alright! I can write on it." I guess that since it's ours, he feels he can deface it all he wants to. I couldn't argue, so I let it go. Plus, he's in one of those moods.

I warned him, from my own experience, that it might be difficult to do because it is black. His response: "Ever heard of white?"

He's mad because he expected me to have to go out and spend money on that folder. For some reason, spending money makes it a better folder.

image: dailymail.co.uk

Currently, there are crayons of every color flying around my kitchen. Literally. They're all broken; they don't work. He's mad. "Dumb crayons!"

He's digging himself an emotional hole. A hole that just keeps getting deeper and deeper, and no matter how hard I try to pull him back out, he won't be pulled. It's pointless.

And, no, I'm not going anywhere near that kitchen.

So, I tell him, "Go ahead and dig. Just don't do it near me." Sometimes, it seems that permission makes it die down--just knowing that someone knows what you're up to. Granting permission means I'm not joining you in that hole.

image: telegraph.co.uk

Some days are like this, and as I'm watching it all unfold before my very eyes, I see that it all started with black. Black that will not accept any other color no matter how hard you try to make it accept something, anything; no matter what you do. Black is that way, unchanging.

And so, I write this because I know there is so much more to this than meets the eye....Points I need to ponder.....Lessons I need to learn.

....About black.