Page 20 of Jersey

"You've been busy," I say as we approach.

"Momma lets me use paint and watercolors upstairs where she put the stuff on the floor," he explains. I take it to mean they've made accommodations elsewhere, so the floor doesn't get ruined if he makes a mess. "But I like these the best."

I take the box of colored pencils from him when he hands them to me.

"Did you want to keep drawing?" I ask, looking at the paper currently on the easel.

He dips his head before taking the box back from me and looking at it as he meticulously picks the next color he's going to use.

Therapy with children as young as Eli never looks like most would think. He doesn't sit in a chair and talk or lie back on a sofa. It's play therapy, and we carry on conversations and just talk freely. His hands are busy on other tasks, so his guard isn't up as much. He'll speak and answer questions without much thought, giving me better insight into what he's dealing with and the struggles or stress he may have about certain topics.

"I love seeing all these different colors," I say as I take in the completed drawings in the stacks, noticing a pattern of this small brown animal. I determine it's a dog because he drew it in inside scenes as well as outside scenes. "I think you really want a puppy."

His smile is quick, but his hand still works on the brown animal in the drawing he's currently working on.

"That would be the best present ever," he whispers.

"How do gifts work?" I ask, doing my best to make my voice sound very inquisitive.

Eli stops his drawing, and I watch as his little head tilts. I don't know if it was the right question, considering it took him right out of his activity.

He turns to slowly face me, his little brow scrunched together. "I don't know."

I chew the inside of my cheek as I consider my options about approaching this.

"Gifts are thoughtful things someone might do for another, but they aren't expected," I explain. "Do you understand what that means?"

He shakes his little head again, his lips a flat line as he waits for me to continue.

"It means even if we want something as a gift, we may not get it. Or maybe when we get a gift, just before we open it, we hope for one thing but feel a little disappointed when we open it and it isn't what we wanted."

He frowns, looking a little beat down.

"So I'm not getting a puppy?"

Shit. I don't think I took the right path.

"I don't know if you are, but I think all gifts are special. What would you do if you got a gift, opened it, and it wasn't a puppy? Let's say it was a train set. How would that make you feel?"

"I love trains," he says with a wide smile that lights up his eyes.

"What if it was a new t-shirt with a dinosaur on it?"

His smile fades just a little.

"I like dinosaurs, too."

"What if it was a pack of underwear?"

"What kind?" he asks cautiously after a long break.

"Plain white briefs."

His nose scrunches, but then he thinks, considering all of it.

"I wear underwear every day. So I think that would be nice to have them."

"Even plain white ones?" I challenge.

---