Make-up and Play-dough

A week later I’m lying in bed on another cool, dark morning. This time, the sound of little feet sprinting across the carpet awakens me. I open my eyes to find my 2-year old son, Little H, standing inches from my face.

“Are you having a nice day Mommy?” he happily inquires.
I can’t say that I have much to go off of, but yes, I am having a nice day.

My little charge and I are off to the Cancer Support Community for a program by The American Cancer Society. I am bringing him along, with high hopes, because I don’t know anyone in the area I can call for two hours of babysitting on a Monday morning. I have packed a very large bag of trucks, markers, snacks, and play dough to help keep him busy.           
We arrive a little early and walk down to the beach. I’m imagining a pleasant stint among the seagulls and the waves. Little H, on the other hand, is consumed by an attraction to the purple play dough he spotted in the busy-bag. He is not responding well to my rational argument on the advantages of waiting until we’re done at the beach. I hand it to him. 
I enjoy the bright sunshine and the crashing waves. I watch two scuba divers coming out of the water and dozens of seagulls trotting across the sand. My child enjoys standing there and squeezing his small wad of play dough - and doesn’t even drop it in the sand.

“The Look Good… Feel Better” seminar we’re here for this morning provides women undergoing cancer treatment with a bag full of donated cosmetics and detailed instruction on how best to use them to combat appearance-related side effects.
Five other ladies and I are seated at a long table covered in boxes of cosmetic goodies, mirrors, and instruction booklets. Little H is a perfect child during the two hours of discussion and demonstration. He’s quiet and content, playing with empty make-up boxes and that wad of play dough, eating his crackers and pushing his trucks across the carpet.

Little H was right, today is a good day.

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