• Jon, you need to keep Ben’s feet out of your mouth.

• Please don’t drink from both cups at the same time.

• Take the broccoli out of your mouth NOW.

• Now it is time for burping to be done and for the meat-eating to begin.

• Take the fork out of your hair, Ben.  Forks are for eating your food, not for combing your hair.

I can’t say I ever imagined that I would construct sentences like these, let alone SAY them with any degree of seriousness.  Even now, in the throes of parenthood, I truly believe that – on some level – I must be immune from having to say such things.  This form of denial frequently leaves me surprised, but I have created some choice one-liners.  Why, just this morning, I tossed one out without a second thought: “Stop! The coffee grounds are in the trash for a REASON.”

Although it is rarely perfect, game night is a great opportunity for us all to slow down, spend time connecting with each other, laugh, and share life.  Here, the boys smile for mom after a hybrid evening of Magna-Tiles and SORRY.  (Jon keeps “the spirit of the game” alive by looking anywhere except toward the camera.)

Jonathan loves BSF.  It is a Bible study group that meets at a semi-local church.  You have to be in first grade in order to attend the children’s session.  (Ben stays home and has some reading time with Mom.) Jonathan tells us that he loves going, but his actions speak louder than his words.  He gets so excited when it is BSF night.  Jon takes the special “grown up” Bible that Dad got for him (he likes to underline important things in it).  He has recently requested a special folder to keep his papers in and Jonathan says that he has made some friends in his group, too.

But perhaps more notable than the Bible study itself, is Jon’s special time with Dad.  A little-known fact about Jon:  He frequently whistles when he is feeling important.  It is then quite common to hear him whistling a tune while he is finding a sweatshirt or putting his shoes on to get in the car for BSF.  He whistles when he gets a cereal bar to use as a snack on the way home.  And, provided he is still awake, Jonathan whistles on his way to the refrigerator after returning home.  (The boy CAN put away some food.)

Mike enjoys his own time at BSF, too.  He often looks forward to going. But some nights, it is the last thing he wants to do.  Phenomenally, regardless of the kind of work day he has endured or the kind of commute required, by the time he and Jon come home, Mike’s personal connection with Jon has been strengthened and they’ve had some very special time together.  Jonathan feels like a million bucks because he has been singularly important to Daddy for a few hours.  Daddy feels like a million bucks because he has spent some time with one of his biggest and most beloved fans.

The dynamic will change next year when Ben joins them.  There will be new treasures to mine, but some of the riches from this year will seem to have disappeared.  In truth, they won’t be gone.  They will have been invested.

Jon and Dad enjoy a late-night "snack and chat" after BSF.

“I know lots about Dr. King.  He is not violent.  He is calm.  He did a big march.  He died by James Earl Ray.  Martin Luther he made a big speech.  He changed the earth.  He kind to kids.  He used to be in a church.  His mom told him you as good as anybody.  I like Dr. King.”

                                                                                                   Benjamin, age 5 (almost 6)

Note:  Mom corrected spelling on “Jams Rorr Way,” “rth,” “youst,” and “eneebudey.”

Often, when I scan back through my day or week or month, it can seem only a long string of hum-drum activities woven together with meals and sleep.  Not a lot of significance.  But if I patch together the days and then take a step back, sometimes everyday life takes on the sheen of a shiny, new penny.  Other times, um – it doesn’t.  Want to know what we’ve been doing since New Year’s?

New Year's Day - 6:30AM

Battleship

Lone Hockey Fan - Benjamin Watches Rangers v. Flyers on New Year's

Although I haven’t pulled the camera out much, I have managed to pack up Christmas for another year, get on top of laundry, and weed the yard. Not a lot worthy of picture-taking.  The boys have gone on a bike ride or two with Dad, we’ve done a couple of family game nights, Mike and I went on a date (!), and we’ve even started pulling ourselves back into a routine.  Welcome back to Everyday Life.  It may not be the stuff of photograph albums, but it is ours and it is good.

Other things dawn on you more slowly.

To tell the story, you’ll need to know about two rules in our house.   One, children do not go into the front yard without a grown up.  Two, if you make a mess – you clean it up.

The weather has been nice here in San Diego.  One day last week, the boys were hot and wanted to change into their swim suits.  No problem. They wanted to use some water outside.  No problem.  (They put it in a watering can and take turns splashing each other.)  I was inside cleaning the kitchen, but after 15 minutes, they were having so much fun, I decided to take pictures.  As I went outside, I was initially at a loss to understand what they had done.

Those of you who are quicker with connections, will see that the boys had run a garden hose up to the top of their play house, secured it to one of the beams, and turned on the faucet.  Presto!  A waterfall in their fort. I found it SO ingenious that I immediately started snapping pictures of all the fun.

So cool, right?  These boys are just creative.

Really quite clever, running a hose up to that playhouse.

And I was still just snapping away with the camera.  How charming was THIS?  Ah, such sweet boys.  Then, as if in a cold medicine-induced stupor, connections began forming at an un-alarming rate and the whole story started to take shape.  I blinked in slow motion.  It was pathetic.  It had been several minutes and it was only just now occurring to me.  My gaze wandered over the scene once again.  The internal dialogue in my murky mind sounded like this:

“Now – hey.  I’ve seen that spray nozzle before.  It’s that cool kind, like we have in the front yard.  I didn’t know that Mike bought two of them. (Pause.)  Mike didn’t buy two of them.  (More slow blinking.)  How did Jon manage to get the spray nozzle off the other hose and get it on the one back here?  Wait.  We don’t have two hoses.  We lug this baby back and forth between the front and the back.  This is our only hose. (Synapses firing at a glacial pace.) Jon has been in the front yard, disconnected it from the faucet, hauled it around back, reconnected it, and then built a waterfall.  (Big sigh.)”

I wrapped up my praise and enthusiasm and brought the picture-taking to a close.  I invited Jonathan over for a discussion about his creation.  (For those of you who feel it was hasty on my part to ascribe the hose incident to Jon without inquest, your point is taken.  But I do know my boys.)  We talked about how brilliant, how inventive, and how fun his creation was.  Then I moved on to asking questions about how my young inventor actually thought of it.  How did he get such a neat idea? Where did he find the supplies?

The supply question was Jonathan’s undoing.  He didn’t even answer the question.  He just looked at me. “Fine!” he announced, “I’ll never build anything cool again!”  The sparkle had come clean off the waterfall.  He stomped off, giving himself a self-assigned session in time-out, so that he would beat me to the punch.

When I excused him, he got up to go play inside.  I quietly and casually mentioned that, of course, before he went inside, he would clean up. You know — empty the hose, disconnect it, take it to the front yard WITH ME, and reconnect it there.

I guess moms are not the only people who can have a slow dawn experience.  Jon looked at me as if I had spoken in Greek.  He blinked. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.  He looked down at his feet, at the hose, and back at me.  He finally found his words, “You mean I have to clean it up??!”

My answer of “of course,” was not well-received.   He seemed to have no idea why HE should be expected to take care of it.  Explanation was in vain.  He had no idea HOW he was going to get the hose back to the front yard, as it was so heavy.  But, what he was capable of doing quickly and secretively the first time, he was equally capable of doing the second time around – albeit less quickly, less quietly.

It’s a lot to expect for a rule to look like a red light in Jon’s eyes.  But the hope is that the next time my boy would like to test the house rules, he will have a slow dawn experience of a different kind.  Maybe the kind that says, “Hmm…  I should ask permission first.”  It would go a long way in keeping the sparkle on the waterfall.

Sometimes you can let the pictures tell the story.  Thanks, Diviney Family!

Eventually, they unwrapped a soccer ball.  It is tempting, you know, to spontaneously unleash a full-fledged game right in the middle of the house, but the doom-and-gloom parents were compelled to implement a no-play zone. Instead, the whole thing was moved to a new venue.

Wide-open space, sunshine, and a ball.  A boy can resist little else — no matter what his age. (If you click on each picture, you can see it more clearly.  That first one with all three boys is a gem.)

Eventually, it was time to go.  As you can see, no one had any fun.

Our family took a moment for a picture before church this morning.  All of us represented, all of us looking at the camera, all of us smiling.  Here we call that “a Christmas miracle.”

“Christmas Day is here at last, so long as we have hands to clasp. Welcome, Christmas, while we stand…heart to heart and hand to hand.”  Have a wonderful day!