Office Supplies Edition

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite things was to go with my father on the occasional Saturday that he went to his office in Chicago.  Normally, he was a Monday to Friday guy, but on these days when he had something to pick up, or something that needed attention on the weekend, I would ride with him and hang out while he worked.  My very favorite part of these days was sitting at his secretary's desk and playing with her office supplies.  The tape, the stapler, the rubber bands and little rubber finger tip covers fascinated me.  Her life seemed so glamorous to me; working for my father and being surrounded by all the tools of the trade.

Messiah arrived at my house yesterday morning with his backpack on his back, and his "Wednesday Folder" in his hand.  This folder gets sent home weekly with communications from the teacher, and goes back on Thursdays with signed forms, items to go to the classroom, whatever is needed to go back to school.  I asked him why his folder was not in his backpack, and he put it down on the chair and showed me that in the right pocket there were dozens of loose index cards.  When I asked him why he had them, he said he wanted to bring them to school.  He picked the folder up quickly, and they all slid out of the pocket and all over the floor.  He let out an exasperated sigh and he and I picked them up.  He shoved them back in the pocket, and I offered him a ziplock to carry them in.  "Nope. I want them loose."  Just as I was about to say, "OKAAAAAAAAAAY" they slid out again and we found ourselves diving for them as they flew in a fan shape onto the rug.  "Now will you let me give you a bag?" I asked.  "UGH. OK!" was muttered through the frustration.  I gave him the bag, I put the index cards in the pocket of the folder, and as I stuck the folder in the backpack, I asked him why he was taking them to school.  He looked up at me, eyes huge and so serious, and said, "Because, Gaga, I love them.  I just love index cards."  I told him that I love them, too, and he said, "Gaga, I love office supplies."

When we got to the bus stop, he reached in his backpack and asked me to take his picture with his index cards.  Behold the dear boy, with his grandmother's genes not technically present, but still, I like to think, shaping his little life somehow.