A package came to our house this week. I wasn’t expecting it until Monday. Colin was expecting it by 8 pm Sunday evening like the tracking website promised. I showed him it was being sent via USPS and explained they don’t work Sundays. His shoulders drooped. He wouldn’t have the precious headphones he’d researched and saved for and finally badgered me into letting him buy online until Monday.
A whole day later than expected.
I’m prone to getting a little snippy at these moments; with a kid whose whole day can be destroyed when one, little thing that doesn’t go exactly as planned, who lives with so much privilege, he can’t cope with not having everything he wants. Right. Freaking. Now. A little shoulder droop will call to mind people out in the world who don’t know whether they’re going to sleep on the cement floor of a train station tonight, or on one side of a razor-wire fence or another. I told Colin he could find something to occupy his mind while he waited for his package.