Green Machine & Grace

Today Kyle was pleased as punch to stay by my side indoors, which meant that Bryce and Deacon could play on the gravel driveway. If Kyle's outside with them it's just too much to keep him off the gravel and not so safe to try to navigate around his toddling. So the sans-Kyle gravel playland was a big hit. Being fearless, speed seekers like their father, they determined that racing down was the most fun. Bryce rode the Green Machine bike, and Deacon rode his Hotwheels. At some point (I wasn't watching--that's the joy of having 5 and 6 year olds, they are pretty self-reliant and tattle just the right amount to make it so you don't have to keep close-close tabs) . . . anyway, at some point Bryce was overcome with generosity and let Deacon have a go on his Green Machine. Deacon thought that the go should last longer than Bryce thought. Alas, Bryce wrestled his little brother off the Green Machine, and inadvertently walloped said brother on the head with a scooter. Deacon--who is no pansy--came shrieking inside. I was somehow dubious that Bryce had manfully hoisted a scooter with intent to make contact with a skull. Bryce maintained that as he dragged Deacon off the Green Machine the scooter slipped in somehow. Anyhow,I determined that since the Green Machine was a gift from their cousin, Colton, (let's take a moment to thank Colton's Grandma Sandy for the bike), Bryce should be a little more willing to share. And so therefore he needed to take a break from it until after naptime. Well this whole instance happened before lunch. Naptime loomed precariously into the far reaches of the future, and Bryce was beyond dismayed, but not without his memory. Minutes later, with a smiling great attitude, he approached me for some lobbying in sheep's clothing. "Mom, remember when I was really little, like four years old". I replied affirmatively, but was utterly captivated by the progress I was making with the dishes. "So Mom, when I was really, really little I hit Deacon the head with a rock. I was throwing rocks up the air and one just hit him -smack- on the noggin". So now he has my attention, Deacon is near me. Kyle is near me. I start to wonder if he's carefully easing me in to the fact that their cat outside with rock injury. Now Bryce has my attention, completely. "Well, Mom, when I smacked Deacon with the rock Dad didn't give me swats or anything." Then, with utmost finality, Bryce finished: "Dad talked to me and showed me grace". Completely missing the connection, I said something like, "Yeah, Dad showed you mercy by not giving you swats. . ." [Inside I'm thinking, where is this going?] "Yes," says a very patient Bryce, "so what do you think about letting me ride that Green Machine not on the gravel??" Ahh, we're raising an attorney.