BELIEVE

Thomas taught me a life lesson over the weekend. But before I tell you about it, I need to set things up for you. It happened on the heels of a conversation I had just had with my fifteen-year- old son, JP. He needed to buy a straightening iron for his hair. His old one broke, and he needed a new one. In other words, he needed me to buy him a new one. So, I made a suggestion. I told him to get a job and pay for it himself.

"Maybe you could do odd jobs for people in the neighborhood," I said.

"Mom there's no way I could come up with that much money that fast," he said. "How am I supposed to make twenty dollars in one day?"

"JP, you're a smart kid," I said. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"I doubt it," he said, as he walked out the door.

A few minutes later, my six-year- old, Thomas, appeared beside me.

"Mom, can I use the computer?," he asked. "I need to type some poems."

"Sure, but why do you need to type them," I asked.

"Oh, I'm going to sell them," he said. "That reminds me, could you please print them out for me when I'm done?"

"OK," I said, grateful he had found something constructive to do, not thinking he was really serious.

Following through on his request, I looked at the poems I had printed.

"Honey, these are someone else's poems," I said gently.

"I know, Mom." "Remember, I told you I was going to sell them," he said.

"But I didn't know you were planning on selling poems that belonged to someone else," I said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

"Well, it isn't OK to sell someone else's work," I explained. "That would be stealing."

After his short lesson on plagiarism, Thomas ripped up the pages I had printed.

"Great," he said. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

It was then that I came up with an idea. I suggested that he write his own poem. At first he didn't think he knew how. So I told him to look out his window into the backyard. I encouraged him to describe what he saw. As the words flowed, I typed them into the computer.

"I'll need ten copies," Thomas said.

"That's a lot of copies," I replied.

"Actually, I think I'll need more," he answered.

Knowing not to question him further, I honored his request.

Grabbing his papers, his dad, and an empty oatmeal container, he raced out of the house. About an hour later, I heard the front door slam. Then Thomas ran upstairs to give me the good news.

"Mom, I sold all my poems!" "Look," he said, dumping a pile of money on his bed. "I MADE TWELVE DOLLARS!"

Thrilled and beyond amazed, I hugged and congratulated him. It was time for dinner, so I told him to get ready. He told me he wasn't hungry-he wanted to sell more poems. Then, he asked me to walk around the rest of the block with him.

"It's dinner time, Thomas," I said. "People are eating."

"Can we go after dinner," he asked.

"I don't know, Honey," I said.

I was about to offer many excuses when he interrrupted me.

"Nevermind, Mom." "I'll ask Dad to take me," he said.

After dinner, I printed more poems out for Thomas. Then he and his dad went for a walk together. An hour later, they came home. This time JP was with me.

" Mom, I made more money!" Thomas said. "And a teenager gave me six dollars!" "Look, JP," he screamed, showing his big brother everything he had earned. "I MADE TWENTY DOLLARS TODAY!"

I looked at JP without saying one word.

The next day, I asked Thomas how he knew he could sell his poem. His answer is a lesson for us all.

"I just believed that I could," he said.

WHAT IS DIFFERENT

THE FLOWERS ARE BLOOMING
AND THE GRASS IS GREENER
THE TREES ARE STARTING TO BLOSSOM AND THERE IS NO SNOW
AND MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED AND THE TREES ARE GETTING THEIR LEAVES BACK
THE END
BY THOMAS VELLA