Adventures In Leafdom, Part Two: Finders Keepers

The fun didn't end as O-- rolled away. I gathered my things to go inside for a telephone appointment and to put on a movie for the kids. To my surprise, Trinidad would not have it. He told me that he would be staying outside and working on the leaves while I worked inside on the phone. He had a goal to reach. He agreed to put on the movie for Sam (National Velvet -- now isn't that a warm-your-heart classic?), field any of his questions or needs, and then return to the leaf pile.

Wow. Is this what it's like when they grow up? Amazing. I took him up on it, of course. He was good as gold, except when the kids from next door suddenly came out to play, and Trinidad was distracted enough to join them, pitchfork in hand. I glanced up at one point to see him brandish the fork threateningly (in play) once and had to interrupt my call for a quick reminder that the fork is ONLY to be used on leaves. What a transition point this is for Trinidad -- torn between the world of pretend while in connection with friends and the world of tools and adult-scale meaningful work.

Interestingly, the topic of paid work only came up peripherally, and Trinidad understood that we had made our goal together as a family piece of work, not offered up for payment (very little is, at our house). He only shared his curiosity around what I thought his work might be worth if he did it for someone else. I told him that if he proved a steady focus, I guessed it would be around $5/hour.

As dusk fell, Sam joined us again while we threw everything we had into the last hill of damp leaves. When the Leaf Guy dumped it all the day before, we took note of a glass beer bottle that fell in as well. Sam's fork hit something hard that clinked.

"Oh, there's the bottle," I said.

"I don't think so," he said. He stooped down.

"Maybe it's an aluminum can," I said.

"Nope," he said. "It's a quarter!"

"I'll be darned!" I smiled.

"And another," he said, beaming. And another, and another, and another. Both boys fell to digging and recovered $6 worth of quarters and a wrapper from a quarter roll. Can you believe it?

"Oh, here's that bottle," I told them, pulling out the brown glass whole.

"Yep, mom. You found that because that's what you expected to find. We expected to find money, so that's what we found."

Then I found the can. Hmm. What does that say for the year I found a steaming dead animal in the leaf pile? Was that back when I thought that moving leaves really stinks?

The boys saved their collection on the porch and continued work until they couldn't contain their excitement and plans for the money (they bought each other Christmas presents that they opened promptly the next day). Both headed inside.

All of this excitement bought me another hour and a half in the leaves by myself after dark. I saw them in the kitchen as I passed with each wheelbarrow load. They asked if they could have a glass of Egg Nog. I agreed, and they very responsibly doled each other out a small cup.

On return trips to the back garden, I noticed the carton still on the table, and glasses still tipping to nearly sated lips. After an hour, I asked if they could put the Nog away. Within minutes, both boys were burning the sugar high, taking turns spinning one another until they fell.

Trinidad returned to the leafpile to use the rest of his sugar on his work while Sam ran around the house bouncing off the walls. Seda came home and spelled me so I could cook dinner. The pile disappeared completely as I set warm plates on the table and everyone gathered round.

Trinidad, looking so adult-like, leaned his cheek on one hand and said how good he felt. And exhausted. I ran a bath with Epsom salts and later rubbed arnica into our wrists. There is nothing to bring a family together like working a common goal.