While unwinding for bed tonight, I go into my office to water the schefflera tree. Looking up, I notice a Lego fortress custom-built around its trunk. I also notice dead leaves on the floor and as I extricate the creation from its place, a few more fall from the branches to join the others. Concerned, I take it up with Brahm, who is finishing dinner in the next room.
"Hey, dude, I don't mean to rain on your parade but I'm wondering if you can find a new home for your Lego fortress. I think it might be a strain on the tree."
"No problem, Mom," is his reply. "This parade has brought along umbrellas."
"Hey," I chime. "I like that." I pause to reflect on the different meanings of his insight, impressed with the wisdom my nine-year-old has just imparted.
"What do you like about it?" he wants to know.
"Well," I begin, grabbing a chair to join him, "I like how, for me, it means that even in a bad circumstance, I can change my attitude. I can be flexible and not let it get me down. It's like I have a back-up plan or something."
"Yeah," he agrees, seeing my point. "Well, my back-up plan has taken the shape of a Lego hideout in the fern in the mudroom."