Heartbreak

Yesterday was Brady's third birthday party.  We were crazy enough to host 14 pre-schoolers plus their parents at our house, but all in all, the damage was minimized while the fun was maximized.  One of the gifts Brady received was this paint-by-numbers sort of Mickey Mouse painting, complete on canvas, paintbrush, and paint.  It's the kind of thing you hang on your wall with pride once you're done painting it.

It was clearly something that Brady was too young to complete successfully, so after consulting with him, we gave it to Casey.

Now, before I go on, I should explain a bit about Casey.  Casey is our sensitive boy.  His feelings are easily hurt, he is the first to cry during movies with sadness in them, and generally is the one of the three boys that seems closest to his raw emotions.  Unsure of the linkage, he is also most artistic in our family.  He will sit and enjoy doing art for sometimes hours at our kitchen table.

So since this particular gift was a bit out of range for Brady's age, we offered it to Casey, who eagerly and quickly accepted the re-gift.  He got his tray, put the painting atop it, opened the small containers of paint, and began right away.  He spent a long time getting all the colors correct and within the lines, even taking to painting the side of the framed canvas a very artsy black.

We had left the painting to dry on the table while we continued on with the rest of our evening, which included making and eating dinner, getting the boys pajamas on, and watching this week's episode of Survivor, a weekly tradition in our family.  At one point, we wondered where Brady had wandered off to, and found that he had gotten into the paint, and proceeded to paint his interpretation over the careful painting job Casey had labored over.  As far as Casey would have been considered, the painting was utterly and totally ruined.

We couldn't quite scold Brady -- he's three, and was just getting into the paint for a toy that used to be his.  So Sarah and I agreed, we'll hide the painting, and just hope that he forgets about it.

Now here comes the heartbreak:  during Survivor that night, Casey leans over to Sarah, and whispers, "Mom, I'm so proud of myself for doing that painting.  I can't wait to hang it on my wall."

These are some of the hardest times as parents.  Not the sleepless nights of an infant, or the increasingly heavy-to-carry toddler.  It's the moment you know that you will have to break your child's heart.  There is not a greater pain for me.