The other day, Tate was looking at treasures in my den and came upon this rare find. The beautiful patina indicates it comes from a bygone era; it's safe to say there are only a handful in existence. Recognizing a genuine antiquity when he saw it, he immediately asked the golden question: "Can I have this when you die?"
Now that kind of question could easily precipitate a full-blown panic attack in any other middle-aged Mormon male. The quiet little voice inside your head suddenly starts shouting: My kids are already jockeying for position for when they read my will! Do I really look that out of shape? But not so for me. Tate has been asking the golden question for years. (We chalk it up to a racer's instinct for the advantage of the inside line . . . plus it never hurts to ask).
|My 'Major Award'|
My gloating quickly ended. I turned 4 in 1968, which means I was a SUNBEAM. It is quite probable that I couldn't even tie my own shoes, let alone do anything to ensure that I had perfect Primary attendance. What first appeared a recognition of my precociousness was in reality a monument to my mother. Though she's been gone for many years, I feel like she's still cheering me on. What a mother I have. Were the truth fully known, we could probably erase our names from the 'major awards' in our lives and instead inscribe 'presented to Reid Litchfield on behalf of his mother'.* Thanks mom. Sorry I almost stole your thunder.
* I think after 25-30 years we could arguably substitute 'wife' for 'mother' on the trophy.