Ethyl's Boys

I was looking through a photo album the other day, showing some baby pictures of my sons to my new daughter in law.  And just for a little while I wished I could go back.  Not back to live there, just back to visit.  How nice it would be if you could just pick an event from the lives of your children and visit it for a day.  And if that were the case I know which days I would pick. 
For my oldest son it would probably be the day he finished third grade and when he came home from school that day he had a shiny new red bicycle on our front porch.  It was our gift to him because he had made straight A's all year.  I remember that year he came home from school all dejected and told me he had made a bad grade.  I looked through his bag and found a paper marked 98. 
"Is this the grade you're talking about," I asked.
"Yes," came the tearful answer.
"Well, this is not a bad grade.  Actually, it's a very good grade."
"I like to make hundreds," he said.
Such was our oldest child.  Hard working.  Responsible.  Caring.  He grew up to be exactly the same way, with the same qualities.

With the second boy it would probably be one day after we had moved to Memphis.  He was about four or five, I can't remember exactly.  Some man was on our street selling little ceramic dolls.  Son number two came tearing through the house at break neck speed. 
"Wait a minute," I yelled to him as he sped past me.  "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to get my money," he yelled back.
In a few minutes he came back into the house with a little doll that said 'World's Greatest Mom'.  It would not have meant any more to me if it had been made out of pure gold.  Such was the personality of son number two.   Full of mischief, forever in hot water, but generous and loving to a fault.

With son number three it would be when his pet hamster died.  The little critter was his first pet and he loved to put him in his little ball and watch him roll all over the house.  Said hamster was named Sprocket  and he was dearly loved by our little man.  As all pets do, one day Sprocket bit the dust.  I will never forget son number three's heart ache when he found his little pet dead in his cage.  He went next door and got the little boy he was friends with and invited him over for the funeral.  They put the tiny rodent in a shoe box, took him down in our little cove of trees and had a proper funeral for him.  It was most touching.  Such was son number three.  And he grew up to be a very caring man.  One who could have great love for his pet or his family.

When you raise children you have so many memories.  Some are happy, some are sad, some are everyday and some are tremendous.  It's amazing how baby pictures can spark such memories.  How very happy I am today for the gift of memory, for in a way I have been able to go back for a visit to their precious childhoods.