The Little Boy and His Purse

This morning was a beautiful, picture perfect, autumn Saturday. My son and I thought it was a nice idea to take walk. I had to run a couple of errands and we were in search of a 500 piece puzzle for him.

We were in the toy department of one of those lovely capitalistic conglomerates. Kids were running around from aisle to aisle just high from the kiddie crack that lined the shelves. My son was convincing me why he had to have Transformers/Power Rangers/Batman/Thomas the train - some toy of that ilk and not the puzzle we talked about earlier. In the meantime, I'm doing what I like doing, people watching. Son ran to an aisle where a mother and son stood, Mother, kneeling down, talking to her son in calming tone, negotiating a purchase of some Transformer type gadget. The little boy had to be the age of my son, maybe a little older. In the crook of his upward bent arm was the cutest brown little tapestry purse with a wooden handle - a sweet pink flower crocheted on the front of it. I smiled immediately, to myself, and to this Mom - whom seemed just like an average Mother raising her child in the city - not super cool or hip or anything. Just being a loving, accepting Mom. And I thought to myself - for a Mother to let her 5yr old son rock a purse - out in public too - was truly a beautiful thing.