I love the poetry in Bud's language.
Spring weather is finally here, so today instead of driving to the school door to pick Bud up I parked in a more distant parking lot - the one where we parked in the fall when Bud played with Clay after school.
As we approached the car, Bud said enthusiastically, "Mama, can I go exploring?"
"Sure you can!" I said.
His enthusiasm never dimmed, but he said, "Clay is not here."
"No, he's not." I said
"It's kind of sorrow," Bud said very matter-of-factly. "Parting is such sweet sorrow." And then he skipped off to play.
Now, granted, he wasn't quoting Shakespeare directly; Bud hasn't actually read Romeo and Juliet. He was quoting Monster Clubhouse, which was quoting Shakespeare. But really - sorrow? I didn't know Bud knew what "sorrow" meant.
And, sure, it's a script - but of the dozens of hours of scripts that Bud has in his head, that is the one he pulled out: "Parting is such sweet sorrow." I wouldn't be so sad to leave you if I wasn't so happy when I'm with you.
He doesn't talk about it much, but Bud misses his friend. And he's right. Parting really is such sweet sorrow.