From Dec. 2004
I have been the primary Lego assembler over this Christmas holiday. The house is now filled with my creations. Quite elaborate. Cashel and I have had fun putting them together.
This morning …
… Cashel was, of course, up before any of us. He was wide-eyed and alert, playing up and down the hallway with his Luke Skywalker and Han Solo action figures, as though he had been up for hours.
I got up at the fiery crack of 10:30 am. I made some toast. I poured a cup of coffee. I got my 56 pound “Ring trilogy”, and went to sit in the living room, for a glorious bacchanal of reading and caffeine. And QUIET.
On the edges of my consciousness, I became aware that Cashel was talking about taking apart one of the Lego constructions – so that he could have the fun of re-assembling it.
He was blabbing to my parents. “I think I want to take the Harry Potter room apart and then put it back together again …”
My parents: “Good idea, Cash! Good for you!”
Cashel then said, calling out to me, as he set himself up at the dining room table, “Auntie Sheila – I’m gonna take this apart … ”
I knew he was telling me because I was “the one”, in terms of Legos. Did he need my help? Did he want my aid? Was he okay?
Then Cashel said, “But I don’t need your help, Auntie Sheila. Don’t worry. I can do it. You can have some time alone.”
You can have some time alone.
The sensitivity of that … the selflessness of that … to even notice that I wanted “some time alone” … and to inform me that he could do it on his own …
My heart literally cracked into a million pieces at his emotional courage.
And – of course – the second he said those words, I had no more desire for any “time alone” whatsoever! – I had to put my book down, put the toast down, and go and play Legos with Cashel.
I’d rather hang out with him than read about Hobbits any day.
