Picket Fence Post

Thank you Jeff Jacoby for causing tears to come to my eyes while I drank my morning coffee and read his column in today’s Boston Globe about his 11-year-old son’s “penchant for pinching treats” from his family’s pantry.

While the Spouse and I routinely wonder about how we should deal with our 6-year-old’s tendency to smuggle food into his room (he’s not yet adept at hiding the evidence and has a wretched poker face . . . unlike some others who live in our household who shall remain unnamed), it’s reassuring to read about how parents deal with their kid’s white lies.

How, you ask, did a column about a child hiding a box of Fruit Loops in his bed make me tear up? By paragraphs like this one from Jacoby’s essay addressed to his son:

“When you were a baby, I loved watching you sleep. Sometimes I would stroke your tiny hand as you lay in your crib, and you would instinctively wrap your fingers around one of mine, clinging to me even in your sleep. Could you sense somehow that I was a safe harbor, a snug refuge from the world’s storms and stresses? Mama and I have tried to be that haven, to furnish you with the physical, emotional and spiritual resources you’ll need as you journey through life.”

I had to turn to the sports section to read about the last-minute heroics in yesterday’s Boston Red Sox game to curtail the sniffling.