Weevils in the Jewelry Box

A friend of mine once told me that the longer you've been on a mission, the more easily amused you are. He told stories of stopping the car in jubilant amazement, because the speedometer read "54,321". It was quite a moment for the guy who had been out 22 months, while the greenie was wondering about his companion's sanity. As added proof, he told me about how he had relayed his theory to his mission zone at a restaurant. They had debated while they waited for their food as to whether or not it was true. But the elder who had been out the longest--the zone leader from Provo who was going home in just 2 weeks--did not participate. He was too busy batting around the blind cords from the window treatment like a cat.

Well, let me tell you...being a mother is kind of like being on a mission. Before motherhood, it might take a stirring discussion on the intentions of the founding father's to blow your mind. After being a mother for a couple years, with a combination of sensory deprivation and overexposure to innane children's shows, you may go into rapture over a ball of wax that came out of your baby's ear. So just keep it in mind that I have been a mother for over 8 years....

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One of my most prized possesions is a bran flake that came out of my son's cereal bowl. It is true. I still have it, months later. I keep it in my jewelry box.

The reason it is so precious to me? I was just sitting there, eating cereal with m' boys, when suddenly Sam (7 at the time) gasped. He excitedly sifted through his bowl and ran up to me with this little flake, dropped it into my hand and said, "It's a heart! This is just another way to show you how much I love you, Mommy." And I have been gonzo for it ever since. I value novelty and creativity, and of course, my kid. I think it is the most unusual act of love that I have ever witnessed, and I LOVE that it came from my own firstborn.

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I've considerred having that darn flake bronzed, or spraying it with polyurethane, or just letting it decompose in my jewelry box with all the earrings that I've lost one of, but still have sentimental value. Sheesh. One of these days I'm going to get weevils in there, and then how am I going to explain that to the pest control guy?