Fast forward to 2015, Sallie's parents are divorcing and Sallie and her mother are moving out of state. When TFS heard about it, he was heartbroken. He asked, "Dad, Sallie's moving to ________, and tomorrow's her last day."
I answered, "You mean Sallie from kindergarten?
He said, "Yes."
My heart broke for him because I know how much Sallie meant to him. So, on the Thursday night before Sallie's last day, TFS and I went to the store and bought her a nice and appropriate going away card and a bag of locally made, organic chocolate chip cookies. He even asked me if I'd help him write a personal note in the card, which was something like:
Thanks for being a good friend and good luck in ________.
He also wrote his phone number and email address in case Sallie wanted to write or call after she'd settled into her new house.
When I suggested that the spelling of the name "Sallie" might not be right, TFS answered, "It is, Dad. That's how she spells it."
The next afternoon, I asked, "So, how did it go with Sallie."
With quivering lip, TFS answered, "I don't like Sallie anymore."
"What happened, Bud?" I asked.
"She said she already had a boyfriend and she threw away the card."
"How 'bout the cookies?" I asked, incredulously.
"She said she was allergic to gluten and gave them away," he answered.
I tried to explain that she might just have been really sad about having to move and didn't know how to react to such a nice thing that he did, but it didn't help much. Inside, though, I was angry that Sallie walked on such a pure heart's beautiful gesture.
TFS bounced back pretty well and, I think, learned a lesson. I'll leave it to you to figure out what that lesson was.