Page 102 of Fake it For Good
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He looked crestfallen. “Cari is mad at me.”
“Why?”
“’Cause.” He pouted.
“I thought you two were really good friends.” I picked up the XBOX controller and waited for him to restart the game for two players.
“She was my girlfriend.”
“And now she’s not?” I questioned. The pitfalls of young love were no joke.
“No.”
“What happened?” I asked gently. I remembered my young crushes and how devastating a breakup could be at such a tender age. While he had no idea of the future heartache he would one day experience, it was still just as painful.
“You’ll laugh,” he said.
“I promise I will not laugh,” I vowed.
“I picked my nose,” he said so quietly I barely heard him.
“I see,” I said. “And Cari is mad at you because of that?”
He nodded again. “Yes. She said it was gross and immature.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How old is Cari?”
“Ten.”
“That’s a pretty big word for such a young lady,” I told him.
“She said she doesn’t like boys that pick their noses,” he said. “I didn’t know she saw me. I just rubbed my nose.”
“You know, I think anyone that doesn’t want to be your girlfriend because of something so silly is just not the girl for you,” I said. “You don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t love you for who you are. It was a silly mistake. I bet she picks her nose. Adults have a saying about things like that. We say don’t throw rocks if you live in a glass house.”
“A glass house?” he asked with confusion.
“It’s a metaphor. Something that is a way to give you a picture in your mind. If you were standing in a glass house and you threw rocks, it would be bad. We all live in glasshouses. None of us are perfect. We shouldn’t be pointing out the flaws of others when we have our own.”
I realized my life lesson was probably going way over his head. But he looked at me and smiled. “I get it. Cari bites her nails. That’s gross.”
I laughed and nodded. “But I hope you’re proper enough not to make fun of her about it.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
I rubbed his head. “That’s because you’re a good boy.”
I played a couple of games with him before I had to excuse myself to go back to the kitchen. The two volunteers and I got busy setting up the kitchen for the cookie marathon. When working with ten kids, it was nothing short of a chaotic circus.
“Are we ready?” Mrs. Drummond asked.
I looked around and figured it was all we could do to prepare. “Let’s do this!”
The kids rushed into the kitchen like a dam breaking open. We wrangled them and managed to get aprons on them before it was time to divide them into groups of three.
“What kind are we making?” Benji asked.
