Carrie Link

LIFESAVERS

On Saturday Rojo had me driving him to three different grocery stores looking for a Lifesaver popsicle. "Mom, do you think Big Safeway might have Lifesaver popsicles. I know Little Safeway didn't, but maybe Big Safeway does. Do you want to go to Big Safeway? Do you want to go now? Do you want to go to Big Safeway now and see if they have Lifesaver Popsicles?'

And so it went.

Big Safeway, the "Little Store" and Plaid Pantry were all tried.

No dice.

On Sunday we went to four more stores: QFC, Fred Meyer, New Seasons and finally 7-Eleven.

God bless 7-Eleven and the horse it rode in on. They had them. Individual ones with some serious freezer burn, but we bought up all they had, 4, and came home and put them away.

"Okay, I am going to be the ice cream man, and I am going to sell the Lifesaver popsicles to you, Daddy and Woohoo. You are going to buy them from me and I am going to sell them to you, because I am going to be the ice cream man. Don't forget. Promise you won't forget."

Then he got a bigger and better idea. "Mom, I am going to invite K and G over after school on Monday. I want them to come to my house after school and eat Lifesaver popsicles. Go e-mail their moms and see if K and G can come over. Go e-mail their moms right now and tell them to come tomorrow and eat Lifesaver popsicles that the ice cream man will sell them."

I e-mailed the moms, and one mercifully e-mailed back within a couple hours that yes indeed, her sainted son could come and "buy" ice cream on Monday after school.

The other mom didn't e-mail back until Monday morning and I thought the planet might stop spinning, such was Rojo's angst over this loose end. But e-mail she did, and her sainted son could, and would, also come and "buy" ice cream.

I love my village. It's not everywhere that an Elmo toting almost 13-year-old, can get that kind of response.

And respect.

And dignity.

And love.

Period.