I'm walking inside after picking Reese up at the bus stop when I see this on our sidewalk:
It's a bluebird egg. They've made a nearby nest, and while we're not sure how this one egg ended up out of the nest, it's Reese's top priority to get it back in.
She drops her backpack and sprawls on the sidewalk. Determined to protect the egg, she cups her hands around it and discusses the best way to save the baby bird inside.
She concocts a plan that involves wearing plastic Ziplock baggies on her hands. Once ready, she gently rolls the egg into one open palm and returns it to the nest. If that egg contains a viable baby bird, Reese can be credited with saving its life.
I've noticed this about Reese: deep down, she wants to protect those who can't protect themselves. She's crazy about our little Kerrington and goes out of her way to guard her from harm. (Unfortunately, this doesn't carry over to her relationship with Brooke, the middle child, who must appear as if she can protect herself. She's fair game.)
Others have noticed this trait in Reese as well. Last week I visited her school for a picnic lunch. As I was leaving, an aide who assists a classmate of Reese's with special needs pulled me aside.
"You're Reese's mom?" she asked.
She shared that Reese always includes this little girl and makes a point to play with her. "She's the only one who does this. She's amazing with her," the aide continued. "Your daughter is a jewel."
I'm treasuring her comment in my heart. I'll mull it over and meditate on it on the rough days.
She saves baby birds and befriends the student who doesn't have other friends. Yes, she is a jewel.