No Bad Days

I was talking the other afternoon with the resident sage at our house. Sam always manages to say the funniest things that make me think.

Here’s the latest:

Sam and I were sitting on the couch after school as we usually do. He likes to review his day every afternoon, reporting interesting new math concepts, discussing the merits of the day’s lunch options, and updating me on the latest in the ongoing recess saga (apparently everybody gets to be a different superhero everyday and controversy rages over who gets to be whom).

Sam stopped in the middle of his recitation and cocked his head as he looked at me. “Hey Mom, you okay?” he asked.

This kind of query is rather unusual, possibly brought on by my exhausted sprawl on the couch. I wondered how to answer, as the world of this seven-year-old does not include most of the things that had caused my exhaustion that afternoon.

I looked over at Sam and tried to think about how I could explain, “Well, Sam, you know how sometimes you have a bad day at school?”

(I figured starting with common experiences might help us bridge our worlds.)

As I waited for his answer I finally managed to lift my head off the back of the couch and look toward him expectantly.

Sam thought for just a minute, wrinkled his forehead and said:

“No, not really.”

Okay, so maybe Sam and I didn’t manage to completely bridge our worlds that afternoon, but just looking at that earnest face and puzzled expression made me think to myself that, with a little guy like Sam to sit on the couch with every afternoon . . . I don’t really have any bad days, either.