I have a confession.
I like to shock my children.
It can most probably be attributed to my own mother, an inherited trait. But I also think it just a good thing~ to keep them on their toes, keep those neurons firing rapidly, like that professor I had in college who would randomly shout in class, claiming the jolt of adrenaline we got as a result was really good to aid in the learning and retaining process.
Most likely, though, it is for my own benefit. I like to see their eyes get wide, little jaws drop, and then their hilarious laughter, sheer delight in being caught off guard by another wacky antic of their mother.
I love to hear my boys laugh silly. I am so thankful for Bereket and Tamagn and Josiah, hand-chosen by God for each other, to be brothers. And when they are gut-laughing hard together, I am most thankful. People, other human beings, move us to laughter. Children more so than other adults. And this silliness, this laughter, is a gift.
So, I confess, I often purposefully shock my boys for their reaction, to hear them laugh silly. But sometimes, it isn't premeditated.
Bereket has been rather high-maitenance lately, something always hurts or needs attention or is hungry. And while it has been making me want to pull my hair out, I am pleased with where he is compared to last year. He comes to me when he needs something; he is looking for a mother's care and concern, love. His cup still needs some good filling up. And mostly, I am glad to do this. But sometimes, selfishness wins out and I cut corners. Like the other day.
I was trying to get lunch cleared from the table and he was in the playroom complaining about another pain.
"Mommy, my thumb hurts."
"I'm sorry, honey."
"Mommy, my thumb hurts, " with more whining in his voice.
"Well, just kiss it then."
"Mommy...? "
"Just kiss it!"
I caught his eyes meeting Josiah's, and Josiah's eyes getting bigger. Shock! Then this twinkle starts in Bereket's eyes and, with hands on his hips, he marches himself to the bathroom where he proceeds to wriggle his jeans down, plant a kiss on his hand and smartly place it on his little backside.
"Mom," Josiah clarifies, "he said his buns hurt!"
Oh, the giggles that ensued! When they're older, they'll understand just how funny it was that their exasperated mother told her sweet three year old, unknowingly, just to kiss his butt!
a post script: I wrote this up sometime last week and never got back to it, shared the story with enough friends that it sounds old to me now, questioned posting it for the misunderstanding it might cause, yada yada yada. But I am posting it today because I need the reminder! We are all tired from a fun weekend away. The sin is great and love for each other lacking and I would do well to heed my own advice and delight in my children this afternoon. Drop the to-do list and look for ways to laugh and enjoy and love. Grace for today, my man reminded me. There is grace for today.
