Full of smiles and sugar and BBQ. Apparently that’s how we do it in the south.
And it was all good. If you pay no mind to the tension in momma pirate. That almost toppled over at times. Perhaps she should have walked the plank. Or at least the block earlier on.
Then I would have missed it though. Little bear-minion-pirate-boy passing out candy. More happy to be greeting and giving than door to door receiving. And my heart is burst wide open at the blatant contentment that continuously surfaces across his smudged face.
He is a boy unconcerned with the future. Confident in the pleasures of life and the safety of his peoples. He has no need to search for candy. He knows when the time comes his hands will be full.
And once again I am the student. The momma soaking in the little boy lessons.
And it’s not about pretending who you’re not or racing for the biggest piles. It’s family. It’s community. It’s neighborhoods opening. Door to door communion. The comfort of your own skin and being silly with those you love.
And we touch hearts that way. A flexed hulk, a zombie girl, wide spread ninja smiles. Those are cracks of heaven. Spreading joy, in our own secular ways. Those are holy moments. For all things good are from above. And all moments are opportunities to give.
My minion pirate knew that. Not one, but two handfuls given. Per kid. And if you pause or dropped some you must need more. And that awesome because that’s his favorite part. The grabbing to give. Perfect 2 year old logic as his little hands reach back in for the biggest handfuls he can muster. To place in every child’s bag.
And this mommas heart beats proud. And the student takes notes.