Today is Tuesday, and Tuesday is trash day.
Every Tuesday afternoon I wait for Reese at the bus stop. She says goodbye to her driver as she bounds off the bus, waves to the third grader who gets off at her stop, and hands her backpack to me. Once we reach the bottom of our driveway, I grab one of the empty garbage cans. Reese grabs the other. Together we drag them to the garage.
We've fallen into this routine. We never comment on it. We simply grab the garbage cans, pull them up the driveway, and discuss her day. She tells me what she ate for lunch, what games she played at recess, and what classroom job she was assigned.
We trash talk.
And today as I listened to her tell me about chicken nuggets and being the kid who gets to put numbers on the calendar at the bulletin board, I had a small epiphany. (Other than the epiphany that we generate way too much trash each week.)
I realized that I've never asked Reese to grab the other garbage can. She's done this entirely on her own. She sees the need, and without being prodded, she acts on it. It's such a small action, but it gives me hope. Never has trash looked so good.