One Easter, I noticed that my part of the handle on my
plastic Easter basket was melted. It was one of those handles that is made of
two strands of plastic twisted together, and there was a part of the handle on
mine that looked like it had melted flat. The two strands were fused together
and kind of flattened, and then it had cooled. And that was that.
I remember noticing it. I don’t know why I just kind of
shrugged it off. Nowadays in our house, we would say “little deal.” Because it
really wasn’t that big of a deal. I think I was a little disappointed, I mean,
I really have this idealist perfectionist personality trait. But yeah, I just
shrugged it off, and forgot about it.
Later my mom was talking to me, and she pointed out that
when they bought the baskets, they put them in the back of the car while they
finished the rest of the shopping. Apparently part of the handle on one of the
baskets was resting on something metal in the trunk, and it got hot and melted
the handle. When she saw it she felt so bad, and didn’t know what to do. She
decided to give that basket to me, because she thought I would handle it in a
mature way and not freak out about it. (I don’t think back then people used the
term “freak out” on a regular basis, so I’m not sure what her exact words were,
but that’s the gist).
I remember being so relieved that I had not made a big deal
out of it! And I felt proud of myself for handling it well. Believe it or not,
every once in a while I remember that basket, and it reminds me to not get all
bent out of shape when things really are a “little deal.” I’m glad my mom took
the time to share how the whole melted handle thing came about, and to let me
know she was proud of me.