Tender Heart

We took the boys to the Atlanta Zoo yesterday. We had an absolutely wonderful time! The boys loved seeing the animals, riding the train, petting the goats, and riding the beautiful endangered species carousel, where instead of horses you can choose to ride a panda, tiger, or other endangered creature. Our last stop was the zoo playground, which gave us our sweetest, most touching moment of the day.

Right outside the playground entrance are two statues: a little girl sitting with a kitten in her lap, and a little boy standing and playing with a garter snake. As soon as I saw them, I remembered that they had a  terribly sad story. The statues are in memory of Brian and Laura Birdsong, two Atlanta-area children who loved the zoo. When he was 9 and she was 6, their mother put them on a commuter airplane for a quick trip to visit their grandparents in St. Simon Island. The plane crashed into a stand of trees and exploded, killing all 23 people on board. The zoo commissioned the statues with the family's permission, and now they stand next to the playground, where all visiting children have a chance to see them.

Big guy was very interested in the statues. He climbed on them, touched the garter snake, and sat next to the little girl. Then he wanted me to read the plaque to him. I read only the words, not wanting to share such a sad story with him. Then he asked me about the dates. I explained to him in vague terms that the little boy and girl were brother and sister, that they had been in an accident and died. He couldn't stop asking questions: How old were they? What happened? Did they really look like the kids in the statues? I redirected him to the playground and hoped he wouldn't dwell on it too much.

After a long playtime, we gathered the boys up and got ready to leave. As we were leaving, big guy ran over and climbed up onto the statues again. I went over to get him, and I watched him put his arms around the boy statue in a big hug. He laid his head on the statue's shoulder and said, "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry." Instead of hurrying him down, I decided to let him have a minute to deal with this sad story in his own way.

My big guy is a thinker, and he can be a bit obsessive (like his mother). But I was reminded yesterday of when that is a good thing, when he can show sympathy for a child he never met, who had something terrible happen to him. Of course I took a moment to think of these children's mother, and to say a quiet prayer for the family. But leave it to big guy to just openly show his feelings and say what all who look upon the statues are thinking: "I'm sorry."