Isaac's Letter

A few Sundays ago, we were sitting at the table for dinner when Kayla mentioned that Isaac had pulled Br. Moore's hair during Primary. Br. and Sister Moore are his teachers and they really do a good job. We asked Isaac if he did this and he said, "yes, because I didn't want to be in Primary." Of course Chauntel and I were upset, a bit emabarressed, and really wanting to figure out how to "fix" the situation. I told Isaac that after dinner, he was going to have to write Br. Moore a letter letting him know how sorry he was and that we were going to take it to Br. Moore when he was finished.
So after dinner, Isaac wrote that he was sorry he pulled his hair and that he wouldn't do it again. There were some letters he needed some help with, but he did pretty good for the most part. We folded his letter, put it in an envelope, and I drove him to Br. Moore's house. On our way there, I explained to him how what he did was really unacceptable and then we rehearsed what Isaac was going to say at the door when Br. Moore came to it. I was practicing this with him because He was going to do it all by himself.
When we got to the house, we go out of the van and I waited at the driveway while he made the long walk to the front door. I gave him a stern, "Now go and ring the doorbell and I want to be able to hear you say what we practiced in van from here." As he walked to the door by himself, the neighbor's dog next door in the backyard barked really loud and that sent Isaac running back toward me thinking it was the end for him. I told him really quick that it was the neighbor's dog and that he needed to turn back around and get to the door. He asked me if the Moore's had a dog and I told him that I didn't know but that he needed to "be a man" and get to the door.
Isaac makes his way back to the door and reaches up and rings the doorbell. The image of my oldest son at that moment will forever be burned in my mind. Scared and nervous, slightly rocking side to side, seeing the back of his little buzzed head body holding that envelope with his letter in it (that he wrote)maybe rehearsing what we practiced in the van in his head; I couldn't have been prouder of him. He was scared to death, but he was doing it. I almost started to cry for him. Everything in me wanted to run up there with him and pick him up and help him, but knew that he needed to do this on his own.
The door opens and it was their youngest son, Hunter, that opened the door. Isaac's first question was "do you have a dog?" Luckily they didn't, then Isaac just kind of stood there and from the end of the sidewalk I prompted Isaac to ask for Br. Moore. He did, and the whole family came to the door. Isaac gave Br. Moore the letter, mumbled something to him that was somewhat what we had gone over in the van, and Br. Moore got on one knee and gave Isaac and hug and said that it was OK and that he hoped they were still buds. I guess the "moment" was a bit overload to my boy; with a quirky smile on his face, he just bolted from the door back to the van. I just waived to them and got in the van with him. Still in the driveway, I gave Isaac a big high five and praised him for taking responsibility and "manning up". I've never been prouder of him. I know he was scared to death to make that march up to the door, but he did it.