Dust Gets in His Eyes

Today, I thought I would share an old story from 2002, when Elder would have been five years old…

An hour ago, when we were cleaning the toy room, I had to remind Elder several times of his objective, finally telling him, “If you don’t start picking up those logs, I’ll have everything else put away before you’re done.”

“How do you know that?” he questioned.

“Well, Elder, it’s not that hard to figure.”

“Oh. When I didn’t pick up before, it was because I was lazy,” he announced.

“Well, Elder, now, I don’t think you’re lazy. I just think you’re easily distracted.”

His eyebrows came together. “What does ‘stractd mean?”

“It means you start doing one thing when something else catches your eye and you forget what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“What catches my eye, Mom. Huh? What catches my eye?”

“Well, Elder…”

“Dust? Does dust catch my eye?” I was too busy controlling all signs of my instantaneous amusement to answer. So he started waving his hands in front of his face. “Get back dust. Go away. Stay out of my eye!” He looked at me. “I won’t let anything catch my eye. Okay, Mom?”

Yeah, okay.

Except, during the entire conversation he had not retrieved a single Lincoln log.

And I had finished with the other scattered toys.

It ain’t just dust that gets in his eyes.

 

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