It's a funny thing, the difference a button can make.
Last week, Spencer came home from basketball practice with a picture of himself in his basketball uniform posted on a big button. He proudly presented it to me and I attached it to my coat.
When I arrived at work, I told the secretary and the department head that "Yes, I have become one of those people who wears pictures of my children on my coat."
When I got home from work that day, Spence was sitting on the couch and I leaned over to kiss him. "I like your button," he said.
It's good to make him feel proud or happy that I'm wearing a picture of him around the city. However, I've been surprised at the conversations that people strike up based on the button.
People I know comment on it, but people I don't know too.
Like the guy at 7/11, which I never stop at, but had to run into last night on my way to teach a class. I needed a box of spaghetti as a building supply for my class lesson on teamwork. Who would have guessed that 7/11 sells spaghetti, but it does, so I carried the expensive ($2.79) box of spaghetti to the counter and plunked it down. The clerk asked about the boy on the button.
"Is that your son?" he asked in his singsong accent.
When I confirmed, he asked how old he was and where he went to school.
Isn't that strange?
Then at the downtown Columbus library, I was greeted by a librarian who offered to find the books by call numbers that I had written on my Post-it note. I handed over the yellow note and traipsed after him through the stacks. Yes, I can find a library book myself, but it seems rude to turn down his offer. After he found the books, he asked about the button on my coat.
"What school does he go to?" the librarian asked.
I told him and he said his brother teaches science at the school. Believe me, in such a small school district, the odds are rare.
I laughed and told him Tucker has had his brother as a teacher both freshman and sophomore year.
So the button is helping me make connections and making my son feel loved. I guess I'll keep wearing it. At least until he goes away to college.
I'm sure Tucker will have a button to replace the one Spencer gave me.
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