When my nephew told me today that he wanted to "make an activity," I brushed it off as a vague request. Then I realized he meant "make a nativity." (If you've ever translated a child, you'll know how satisfied I felt.)
So with a box, a pencil and a few crayons, we went to work. This was going to be "the best thing ever," he said.
He was right, but it wasn't because of the box — a "new and improved" version, he said, of Mom's heirloom. No, the best thing ever was the time I got to spend with him. In 10 days, he'll be 5. In 10 months, I'll be married. So in 10 years, I hope I'll just be grateful — for him, for these memories and for knowing the potential of an afternoon, a child and an empty cardboard box.