I completely forgot to recap your end-of-the-year preschool program last month, my bad. I did, however, do a month's worth of your feeding, clothing, and providing for your every need. So there's that.
You came home from preschool a few month's ago and told me you had a speaking part in your end-of-the-year program. Outwardly, I was all "That's AWESOME, buddy! How exciting!" Inwardly, I was all "Do what? You're gonna do whaaaaaaa? Why did you agreeeeeee to this! Public speaking is scaaaaaaary!" (You'd think after a year of being in Toastmasters [even if it was about eight years ago], I wouldn't still be scared of public speaking. Yeah, well ...)
Your part was Ephesians 4:32 - "Be kind and loving to each other." You would periodically practice your verse with me at home, but most of the time you whined "I don't LIKE to pwactice at home! I don't NEED to pwactice at home! I do enough pwacticing at SCHOOL!" I didn't push you, but it was a relief to hear you say the verse to me every once in a while, just to reassure me that you did, in fact, know it and that the likelihood of you standing at the microphone going "I like grilled cheese sandwiches!" was reduced a bit.
We ended up snagging front-row seats to your program, so we had a prime spot to check out your public speaking debut. As soon as your class walked into the sanctuary, I could feel the tears start to well up. Gracious, I was a mess. Thankfully there was a smattering of adorable songs to cheer me up. And then it was your turn. You walked to the mic, looked out into the crowd (of about 50-60 people), smiled your wonderfully be-dimpled smile, said your verse loudly and clearly, then sat back down. Everyone clapped and I sobbed. You can't take me anywhere. This will probably just be the status quo whenever you do things in life. You do something, I cry. It'll be our little thing.
You've become interested, nay obsessed, with finding words that start with CH. Every time you see something that starts with CH - whether it's on a food package, the credits on a movie, or any word in any book - your face lights up and you screech "C-H, Mommy! Just like the C-H in the beginning of my name!" And how convenient that two of my favorite things happen to start with CH. Cheese and Charlie. In no particular order.
I've started a new bedtime routine with you and Natalie. I read about it online, loved it, totally stole the idea. After I tuck you in, I ask you a series of questions.
Me: Do I love you because you have cute dimples?
You: Nope ... but I do have cute dimples.
Me: Do I love you because you like to play with Natalie?
You: Nope ... but I do like to play with Natalie.
Me: Do I love you because you like superheroes?
You: Nope ... but I do like supuh-hewoes.
Me: Do I love you because you're a rascal?
You: Nope ... but I am a wascal!
Me: Why do I love you?
You: Because I'm yours!
The whole point of this little game is for me to point out unique qualities about you but to make sure you know those qualities are not the reason why I love you. Those qualities are wonderful but they're neither the source nor the reason for my love. That if those qualities somehow disappeared tomorrow, I would still love you simply because you're mine.
So while I love your dimples, I treasure the times that you and Natalie play together, I love that you think you're Batman and Captain America, and I love that you're a total rascal, those are not the reasons I love you. If you were a dimple-less kid who didn't enjoy playing with his sister, didn't like superheroes, and wasn't a rascal, I'd still love you. I love you simply because you're mine.
God loves you (and me - and everyone, for that matter) because you're His. God doesn't love you because you go to church or pray or follow the Golden Rule. God loves you simply because you're His child. His love isn't attached to what you do or don't do, where you go or don't go, what you say or don't say. You don't have to do anything, be anything, have anything for God to love you. God loves you simply because you're His child. And I pray this little bedtime game solidifies this truth in the deepest part of your precious, rascally heart.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
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- How Trump is Fighting Both Hillary and His Own Party
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