As the little train rounded the bend at the Oregon Zoo in Portland, Grandpa’s beloved cap flew out from the hands of his two grandsons, to a place beside the track. Jordy and Ev had been pulling at the cap, each wanting it.

It was a blue cap, with gold letters in the front, which spelled out, “#1 Grandpa.” My middle son’s father-in-law and given it to me the previous year. However, when the now three-year-old Ev saw it, he quickly took to wearing it himself. He didn’t want me wearing it, so I tightened the adjustable band as tight as I could. I told myself he wanted to wear my cap, because he admired me so much. Actually, it might have been his way of telling me who was in control. I really don’t know.

“There goes your hat.” “You’ll never see it again.” “Ha, ha, you lost it.” Comments like these from fellow adult passengers annoyed me, as I wondered why they were so happy I had lost such a treasure. But the section of the tracks where the cap blew was at the other end of the Zoo, so we did not try to find it.

Jordy, the six year old felt guilty and sad. He spoke about his regrets to his grandmother that night, as she was giving he and his brother their bath. “The boys” were spending five nights with us, while their parents rested up for the birth of grandson number three.

Ev (Everest) did not say a word, and did not seem at all concerned. Not only was he just three, but an aggressive and sometimes difficult personality. The thought crossed my mind that he wasn’t the type to care that much about someone’s cap, not even his Grandpa’s.

The five days passed and we took the grandsons back South to their Oregon home, to await the birth of little brother. Several minutes after our arrival, I saw Ev come back into the living room from his bedroom. In his hand was his little sun visor that his other grandparents had given him at the beach. “You can have my cap, Grandpa.”

I was speechless. I was deeply touched. Tears came to my eyes. As his Grandma and I shared on the way back to Washington, Ev had not taken the loss of my cap lightly. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he had been thinking about it during the past few days.

He already had a conscience. His personality was not all the defiance and rebellion of a three year old. He was at heart a very sweet and precious child. We really knew this all along, but this proved it. And we believed this, not just because we were his grandparents. Really!