The little boy that I know is confident, happy and very sure of himself.
But ... on this one night, right before he went to bed, I went to him and told him that his father and I would be going to his school the following morning, early, to see the school's flag ceremony. These ceremonies are held at his school, once every couple of months, and it is in these ceremonies where children from each class in the school, are chosen, for awards. These awards are called The Pillar Of Character Awards (Trustworthiness, Citizenship, Caring, Fairness, Responsibility & Respect). When I told my son that we would be attending the ceremony - he began to cry.
"I don't know why you're going," he sobbed.
Sitting down on the edge of his bed, I said, "Daddy and I want to go - we haven't been to a flag ceremony in a while."
He continued to cry. "I'm not going to win. I never win," tears were streaming down his face. "I haven't won in five years. There's always someone better than me," he was very sad.
I tried to console him, but he was inconsolible. "Maybe this time you will win. And even if you don't win, we still want to be there - to recognize everyone else that will - right?"
I had never heard him voice concern, let alone sadness, over not having ever won one of these awards before. I was sad for my sweet son.
But I left him, eventually, and he settled down and went to sleep. I was hurting for him, but at the same time I was very happy. For ... I knew ... he would receive an award the next day.
His teacher had phoned me and asked that we make sure that we attended the ceremony - as, Little Billy had been chosen from his class, to receive an award.
So, we went and we saw and we were proud. He was proud. He could not have been more proud. It was a fine moment for our sweet boy.
Walking out of the ceremony with my son, a little boy walks up behind us. He is a Downs Syndrome child and he seems to know my Little Billy.
The boy moves close to my son and tries to capture his attention - I step back and watch.
Little Billy is talking to one of his other buddies, but hears the voice of the other boy and turns to look at him. As soon as he sees this child ... he lifts his arm - without one moment of hesitation - and he puts his arm around the boy's shoulders and pulls him close.
They walk out in front of me ... my sweet Billy, with his shiney medal around his neck, and his little buddy, Jack.
He looked back in my direction - still walking with his arm around Jack's neck - and I smiled.
When Little Billy got home that afternoon from school, I asked him, "Do you know what made me most proud today?"
He smiled a great big smile, grabbed ahold of the medal around his neck and said, "My medal?"
I grabbed him into my arms and pulled him too me and squeezed him tight and said, "No. I'm proud you got that medal because I know how much you deserve it. But ... I was most proud for the kindness you showed to Jack."
He pulled back and looked me in the eyes and I could see that he was confused.
I said, "When you hugged him - in the hallway," explaining what I had seen.
My confident, happy and sure of himself boy turned and started to walk away. Before he left, he turned back and looked at me and said, "Well, he's my friend," with the sort of nonchalance you would expect from a boy that had just received an award for "Fairness".
It took 5 years for my son to get that medal, but ... on this day ... I do not believe they could have chosen a better boy!