“Do wishes you make come true?” My kindergartener asks as he inhales in preparation to send white dandelion fluff sailing across the sidewalk. His cheeks fill with air and he blows out in one long breath.
“Some do. What did you wish for?”
“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”
I nod in understanding. “Don’t tell me then because I want it to.”
A. takes my hand and we continue our walk home from school in silence for several sidewalk squares. “Mom? It’s candy. I wished for candy.”
“Oh. That’s a good wish.”
We walk quietly for a few more squares thinking of chocolate Cadbury eggs (me) and Skittles (him).
“”Mom, if you tell someone your dreams does it mean they won’t come true?”
“No. Wishes are different than dreams. I think the more people you tell your dreams to the more people you have who help you reach them. Think about how I’m always working on writing a book but haven’t managed to do it yet. And Nanny and Pop Pop always tell me I can do it? I like that. It’s nice to have people believe you can when you sometimes forget.”
A. considers this.
“So wishes and dreams are family?”
We round the corner onto our street. F. runs ahead happily jumping on EVERY SINGLE SIDEWALK CRACK and laughing manically. Figures, sometimes he is a pain in my backside.