My heart is singing hallelujahs this evening, because my teachings (and naggings) are clearly settling in.
My friend, Jodi, works at the church office now and then, too. Like I do. We have our little part-time jobs, where we earn just enough money to buy some Wonder Bread and Ruffles chips for our families once in a while.
You’re blessed spiritually when you work at the church, but not so much financially.
Anyway, today Jodi and I were both hard at work, and we both brought our kiddos. The boy adores Jodi’s kids, Ciara and Blaine. Blaine will soon train with Yoda as well, and, after his training is complete and he has learned to summon his lightsaber just by looking at it, his Jedi skillz will match the boy’s.
Except the boy can’t really look at his lightsaber from across the room and wish that it would magically appear in his hand with the Force, like Luke Skywalker can do, no matter how hard he tries. He just ends up with a headache whenever he practices this.
But I digress.
And if you’ve been here with this blog for very long, you’ll realize that my digressing is actually quite common.
Like the cold.
Only not so annoying as a stuffy nose that you can’t suck air into.
This afternoon, while I was furiously laboring over the computer at work, the kids were playing near me at the church. They were playing some game involving animals and animal caretakers. The boy emphatically announced, “I’m the snake! I get to be the cobra!” because he is all about being the nastiest varmint the good Lord ever put on this planet, with the exception of the tarantula.
He’ll never ask to be one of those.
Ciara and Blaine allowed him the role of king cobra, and life was good. Blaine was some animal, although I am forced here to admit that I really don’t know WHAT he was. I was typing at lightning speeds, and only listening with half of an ear, but I’m glad that I was, because I learned that the boy really does absorb what I teach him.
Or nag at him about.
However you want to look at it.
With the king cobra and other unidentified animal in tow, Ciara was the animals’ caretaker. Eventually I heard her say, “It’s time to eat. We’re having cake and ice cream for dinner, Animals.” And then she began passing out imaginary sugar-laced treats, when her brother piped up, “And we want cupcakes to go with our cake and ice cream.”
Ciara said, “Okay. I’ve made you guys cake and ice cream and cupcakes. Pretend that the cupcakes are pink, okay? Pink with sprinkles.”
The boys, who have never turned down a cupcake of any color, whether it was real or completely fake and totally invisible, agreed whole-heartedly to allow Sarah Lee to decorate the pastries as she saw fit.
Eventually, the game shifted to some degree, and I heard the roles reverse. The boy became the caretaker of the animals, while Ciara morphed into an animal of some kind.
(I’m rather certain that she was not a king cobra, just on principal, although she does strike me as the sort who would be brave enough to be a tarantula.)
From my spot on the computer, I heard Blaine announce, “We’re hungry animals!”
The boy responded by saying, “Here are some peas, Blaine.”
And Blaine replied, “But I wanted cake and ice cream and pink-frosted cupcakes for dinner!”
And my boy, bless his heart, stated with an irritated sigh, “Blaine, listen! You already had cake and ice cream and cupcakes in this game, and now you need to eat something healthy. You can’t eat junk all day long; that’s why I’m giving you peas.”
Right there, in the church, I heard the angels sing an enthusiastic round of hallelujahs.
My boy may not want the vegetables, but he understands the concepts that I am continually drilling into his head.
Can I get an Amen here??!