Bedtime Prayers

Two nights ago, our little family sat down together to read worship and pray with the boys before bedtime.  First, we read from the toddler devotional and then we read from the Bible story collection.  The boys were captured by the vivid details for each story.  They listened respectfully as the Bible verses were read.  Then, they knelt down to pray.

Son #2 began.  "Dear Jesus.  Tan to for nite nite.  Tan to for the food.  I love you.  Amen."  (Translation:  Dear Jesus.  Thank you for night night.  Thank you for the food.  I love you.  Amen.)

We all echoed.  "Amen."  My husband look at our eldest son and said. "Now, it's your turn."

Son #1 bowed his head, closed his eyes, and folded his hands.   He softly began.  "Dear Jesus..."

Just as my eldest son started his prayer, Son #2 loudly continued.  "Dear Jesus.  Tan to for dis day.  Hep me to be goo.  I love you.  Amen."  (I don't want to translate.  I just want you to think he wants to be goo.)

Son #1 laughed and shouted playfully.  "Hey!  It's my turn!"

I giggled and whispered to Son #2.  "Shhh!"

My husband directed Son #1 to begin again.  Son #1 said respectfully.  "Dear Jesus..."

Again, Son #2 interrupted his older brother.  "Dear Jesus.  Tan to for da food.  Tan to for nite nite."

Son #1 tried to help his brother finish the prayer.  "I..."

Son #2 would not hear of it.  "Oh no no no no no!"  Then, Son #2 continued undisturbed.  "I love you.  Amen."

"Amen!"  We all echoed.  My husband turned to our oldest son and said.  "O.K. Try again."

Son #1 settled down to pray with a small giggle.  "Dear Jesus.  Thank you for this day..."

Son #2 jumped right into the pray.  "Dear Jesus.  Hep me to go nite nite.  Hep me to be goo.  I love you.  Amen."

This time we couldn't contain our laughter.  Poor Son #1.  He could barely get a sentence out while praying before Son #2 interrupted him.  Of course, Son #2 was just excited about his new found ability to pray.

I patted Son #1's knee and told him to try again.  Son #1 folded his hands but only closed one eye as he suspiciously peeked at his brother.  "Dear Jesus..."

Son #2 hopped right into his older brother's prayer.  "Dear Jesus.  Tan to fo Mommy, Daddy, and Brudder.  I love you.  Amen."  Son #2 grinned from ear to ear.  He was so proud of himself.

Son #1 laughed and said.  "Alright.  Now, it's my turn."  Then, he bowed his head and began.  "Dear Jesus.  Thank you for this day.  Thank you for my family, relatives, friends, and pets.  Thank you for Sabbath tomorrow.  Help me to have only good dreams and no bad dreams.  In Jesus' name.  Amen."

At the end of the prayer, Son #2 clapped his hands together and exclaimed.  "Ame-e-e-e-n!"

The Decorative Soap

Just an hour ago, Son #1 was preparing to take a shower.  I helped him check the temperature of the water, select his pajamas, and find a fluffy towel.  While all of this was happening, I noticed a smudge of toothpaste on the counter.  Nonchalantly, I rubbed out the toothpaste with my thumb.  Now the toothpaste was on my thumb.  Yuck.  Son #1 watched with interest as I reached for a small decorative soap by the faucet.  The soap was in the shape of a sparrow's egg.  Dark brown speckles dotted its bright blue hue.  His brow furrowed with concern.  "Mom, why are you washing your hands with a bird's egg?"

I laughed and responded.  "It's not a bird's egg.  It's hand soap.  Look.  Isn't it cool?"  Son #1 peaked over the counter top at the blue, speckled egg lying in a tiny, decorative nest.  He looked confused.

"It looks like a baby bird is in the egg.  Are you sure it's not alive?"  He asked.

"I'm positive."  I assured my son.  "I got the soap from a friend.  It won't hatch.  It's not real."

Son #1 stood on tiptoes and gazed at the decorative soap once more.  Then, he sighed and walked slowly to the shower.  Just as he was about to get in, he paused and turned to face me.  "But Mom, what if the egg hatches???"

I held his hands and tried to comfort my worried little boy.  "It's O.K.  I promise that the egg will not hatch.  It's soap."  Then, I helped him into the shower. 

All was quiet for a moment and then I heard my son call out.  "It better be soap or else you've been washing your hands with a baby bird!!!"

The Pizza Slice

Last night, a small group of relatives gathered at our house to watch the Olympics.  My husband prepared pizza from scratch in the kitchen as the kids commandeered iPhones and iPads from their unsuspecting elders.  Everyone talked loudly as several conversations clamored for dominance.  The heavenly scent of cheese, sauce, veggies, and dough filled the air.  Finally, the oven timer rang out.  It was time to eat.

The boys rushed to the kitchen greedily grabbing pizza from the pan.  Quickly, they scurried back to the living room to hungrily devour their slices.  Eventually, everyone settled down among cushions or against furniture to watch the athletes compete.

Midway through the Olympic events, Son #2 got up from his seat and began to run around the living room with his half eaten pizza slice.  Slivers of melted cheese and drops of pizza sauce flew into the air as he ran circles in front of the television. 

My husband called out.  "Little Son!  Sit down.  Eat your pizza."

"No. No."  Son #2 answered gleefully.  He continued to weave between the adults in the room.

I tried to help reinforce my husband's request.  "Baby, sit down and eat your food."

Son #2 paused for a second.  "No. No."  Then, he wiped his greasy hand down his shirt and continued to run.

Abuelita (Grandma) tried to convince the little monkey to sit down.  "Come sit by me.  Look at what I have."  She enticed as she held up her iPad. 

Son #2 peered at the iPad from his sauce encrusted face but decided to continue running.  Then, he dropped his slice of pizza on the floor. 

Tia (Aunt) commented wryly.  "You're kid just dropped his food on the floor."

"Yeah.  I know."  I replied.  Then to my youngest son, I said.  "Baby, that's gross.  Look!  You dropped your food on the floor.  Are you all done?"

"No. No."  Son #2 cried and continued to race around the room.  I'm sure his pizza contained a small collection of lint.

Tia tried to redirect her wild little nephew.  "Are you all done?  Put your pizza on your plate.  It's yucky."

"Oh.  No. No."  Son #2 replied.  At that point, he was flinging himself onto the couch. 

All of a sudden, Son #2 stopped his ridiculous game and calmly walked to me with a serious look on his face.  He held out his fuzzy pizza slice and stated.  "All done."  Then, he sat down beside his Abuelita and quietly played a game.

Toddlers operate on their own time and space continuum much to the annoyance of their parents.

The Training Wheels

I recently bought a used bike for $10.00.  This bike will come in handy considering that I work close to home.  However, it has been twenty plus years since I have ridden a bike.  I wanted to practice riding around the neighborhood before I began to ride to work regularly.  

The other day, my oldest son came home from school shrieking with excitement.  "I got all my home work done!"  I smiled proudly and congratulated Son #1.  Son #1 and I have an agreement about completing assignments at school.  If he does not bring home any homework, we will get to do something fun after school.  Son #1 remembered our agreement and asked anxiously.  "What are we going to do today?"

I paused for a moment and then thought about the bike.  It would be fun to go riding and it was a beautiful day.  "Let's go for a bike ride!"  I suggested.

Son #1 shouted.  "I want to bring my roller blades!"  Then, he ran to his room to put on his gear.

Son #2 toddled up to me and mumbled.  "I wan lollo bades!"  (Translation:  I want my roller blades, too.  Explanation:  Son #2 got roller blades for Christmas from Abuelita - Grandma.  He is quite good at rolling around on the carpet.)

I ignored Son #2's comment but exclaimed.  "Oh, wow!  We get to go for a ride!  Let's get our shoe, shoes."

While I got our youngest son ready, my husband prepared the stroller.  Son #1 flew out of his room with his gear on and headed for the garage.  I bustled Son #2 over to his stroller and buckled him into it.  My husband threw on his roller blades.  I grabbed my bike.  We were ready for our ride around the neighborhood.

As my husband opened the garage door, Son #1 came over to my bike.  He asked.  "Mom, do you know how to ride a bike?"

"Sure, I do."  I replied.  "It's just been a long time since I've ridden one."

Son #1 analyzed my bike and then commented.  "The bike's going to be hard, Mom.  You need to be careful."

"I'll be careful.  You don't need to worry."  I assured my eldest son.

"No really, Mom."  Son #1 reiterated.  "You need to be careful because you don't have training wheels like I did on my bike."

"Am I really going to need training wheels after not riding a bike for twenty-some-odd years???"  Thought the over confident mom of two.

Apparently, training wheels might have come in handy.  I managed to scrape my leg against the peddle and drop the bike as we came to the first stop sign.  

Coffee?

My husband loves to drink coffee.  His mornings begin by grinding coffee beans and then setting up the coffee maker.  Son #2 has gotten used to the morning coffee routine.  When my youngest son hears my husband reach for the coffee, Son #2 runs to the kitchen as fast as his legs will carry him.  As soon as he bounds into the kitchen, he stretches his chubby arms upward.  My husband gently picks him up and leans him over the grinder so he can smell the coffee grounds.  Son #2 sniffs deeply and sighs with satisfaction.  "Coffee."  He says with finality.

When I get home from work, Son #2 greets me with a hug and usually asks for a "Ba".  (Translation:  "Ba" is his favorite mug filled with soy milk.  Son #2 is allergic to dairy products hence the soy milk.)  Sometimes, Son #2 is feeling adventurous and asks for coffee.  Today just happens to be one of those days.

This afternoon, my husband poured himself a steaming cup of hot coffee and a tasty creamer.  He meandered to his recliner and settled down to sip his drink.  Son #2 eyed the hot mug then ran into the kitchen.  He tugged on my pant leg and declared.  "Coffee?  Coffee!"

I tried to brush off the request.  "You don't need coffee.  Do you want some water?"

Son #2 pouted and demanded again.  "No.  Coffee!"

"You're too little for coffee."  I said.

Son #2 ran to the refrigerator door and begged.  "Coffee?  Mama.  I want coffee."

I opened the refrigerator.  "There's no coffee in here."

Son #2 stood on his tiptoes.  He reached up toward a top shelf on the door and pointed.  "Coffee.  Mama, coffee."  Son #2 was pointing to the coffee creamer.  

Heh.  Silly boy.

 I grinned, rolled my eyes, and grabbed the creamer from the refrigerator door.  Then, I brought out his mug from the cabinet.  After handing him the mug, I bent down to ask.  "Is this the coffee?"

My baby boy giggled.  "Yeah.  Coffee."

Son #2 held out his mug as I poured a smidgen of "coffee" into it.  He smiled from ear to ear and then said.  "Oh.  Thank you."  After investigating his drink, my youngest son toddled into the living room to sit by his dad and drink "coffee".

I smiled to myself as I took in the little scene before me.  Apparently, the apple does not fall far from the tree.

The Discussion

Son #1 was in his dad's office using his vivid imagination to describe one of his exciting adventures with his play sword.  He jabbed and parried at his invisible opponent all the while shouting out the details of his story.  My husband was on the computer mixing a song and half listening to his eldest son. 

I could hear the conversation across the house but the details were still a bit sketchy.  I laughed and decided to ignore the raucous in my husband's sanctuary.  He and I value the little bits of peace that we manage to scrape together throughout the day. 

Son #1 laughed out in wonder and leaped out with his sword.  He spun around to block incoming danger. 

Clash!

Clang!

Crash!

"Ha ha!"  Son #1 shouted.

"Mmm hmm."  My husband grunted.

I giggled.  Only Son #1 could accurately describe the complex story in his daydream.  I realized that I needed to tell my husband something so I walked toward his office.  As I neared the door, I heard Son #1 scream.  "Then, I'll cut off his head!"

I closed my eyes and shook my head.  If anyone else had walked in on that statement without the back story, they would have assumed terrible things about our parenting skills.  Here's to the crazy things kids say and their incredibly vivid imaginations.

Mouth

The other day, Son #2 and I were finishing up our supper.  Everyone else had eaten their food quickly.  This left us alone at the table so we decided to move to the living room floor.  I turned on the television and flipped through the stations until we landed on something funny.  Then, I focused on feeding my distracted toddler.

Son #2 pranced around me in circles as I fed him bites of food.  I was hungry for my own food.  However, I was determined to help my youngest son finish the last few morsels on his plate.  Son #2 was not interested in eating anything.  My little baby rolled back and forth trying to ward off sleep.  My mouth watered as I gazed at the food on his plate.  I shrugged.  My youngest son wasn't going to miss a bite of food and I was starving.  I popped the food into my mouth. 

Son #2 paused mid-roll and stared as I chewed the food.  He stood up and walked angrily to where I sat.  Then, he held his hand out and demanded.  "Mouth!  Mouth!"

I shook my head defiantly.  Then, I said.  "No baby.  The food is in my mouth."

Son #2 would not be dissuaded.  He held his hand out again and practically shouted.  "Mouth!"

I wrinkled my brow and asked.  "Do you want me to spit it out and feed it to you like a mother bird?"

Son #2 nodded in agreement.  "Mouth."  He held his hand out expectantly.

I can't imagine why my young son would want my chewed up food.  Maybe he watched a PBS special on mother birds and their young.  Maybe he was trying to reenact the process of feeding baby birds.  Maybe he just didn't want to share his food.  Either way, I don't sneak bites from his plate anymore.