We're working on responsibility here, in all different forms. Like doing the work we're asked to do, and noticing and doing work we're not asked to do. I'm also trying to help the boys take care of their own stuff. Especially as we have more days with scheduled time out of the house, I want to make both the leaving and the time away run as smoothly as possible by having everybody pack their own backpack with all that they might need for the day. Oh, and I'm also trying to give Harvey and Zion, at least, enough money that they can practice making reasonable decisions with it. It's been working fairly well, but for Zion this afternoon it all went wrong.
We went to the park, and he did a great job bringing his bag with his lunch and things. Plus his wallet, which was just yesterday—to keep it from being lost—clipped on to the backpack. But then somehow, when we stopped at Chip In Farm on the way home, the pack was not in the car. Nor was it at the park, when we drove fifteen minutes back that way to look for it. Zion was distraught; I wasn't much better myself. He must have left it at the park, and I can't imagine who would have taken it in the half hour we were gone—but no more can I imagine where else it could be. Sad story. So now Zion needs a new backpack, and some new money, and some more practice with responsibility.