Go ahead. Listen to Dalke Diaries as you drive, cook, fold laundry, or while you stare at the ceiling wondering why you waste your time on such things. Just click play and I’ll tell you stories that will confirm your own life isn’t all that lame.
My son does not have people-pleasing tendencies. I should be thankful for this, I know.
But sometimes it would be awesome if he reigned his thoughts in a tiny bit, and curbed the need to speak his mind so freely. Wednesday evening would have been an excellent time for him to practice that.
We were digging into a box of pictures from his baby years (the ones that I will
one day never put into a baby album). He stared at one particular picture of the three of us (which was sort of like a selfie taken with a Sony Handycam circa 2005), then flatly stated:
Luke: This picture is like an onion. It’s making my eyes cry.
Me: Why’s that?
Luke: Actually I think it’s just your face. And Dad’s hair.
Such a precious moment, y’all. And proof that we’ve come a long way from the day he told me I looked like a princess. Smh.
Luke has also recently inquired about why I don’t wear make-up. When I confirmed that I actually do wear make-up, he suggested that I wear more. But I don’t dare press him for further explanation since I’m well aware my 38th year happens next month, and I prefer to live in denial of various laugh lines and not-to-tight skin around my eye area.
So basically I just need Luke to keep a lid on it.
Sigh. I wish I had loads of thrilling stories to share with you, but the only thing I can think of is that Larry bought these air freshener things that I’m pretty sure were hand-crafted in hell.
Don’t even think I’m exaggerating. They’re creepy looking, one-eyed contraptions that intermittently spray out room deodorizer, and for some ungodly reason, Larry placed them randomly around the house.
If I were prone to jump at weird noises, I might freak out a little every stinking time one of them is activated. Or if I were a light sleeper, I might wake up to the annoying click of their lock-and-load at 2:13am.
I also might have a deep-seated desire to beat every single one of them with a hammer.
Bless him, Lord. Let’s just say Larry is fortunate that meditation has taught me how to be less reactive to external situations.
But can I please just point out that my essential oil diffusers and Scentsy warmers sufficiently fragrance our home. Therefore it makes NO SENSE WHATSOEVER that the man who is characteristically allergic to impulse purchases would buy automatic scent dispensers?!
I mean what the heck? I’m almost certain this is a sign of the end times.
Speaking of biblical topics, I’m convinced that God called me to seminary so that I could intelligently converse with Luke at bedtime. Because Lord have mercy, this child’s nightly theological inquisitions are beyond my capacity.
Perhaps it would be simpler if Luke’s questions weren’t so specific. Because, kid, I have no idea if Pilate decided to believe Jesus was the Son of God after he came back to life on Sunday.
And I don’t know if Thomas told Jesus he was sorry for doubting him.
And all I can tell you is that yes, I do think dogs will be in heaven because heaven will be God’s restoration of all creation, but no, I’m sorry I cannot explain why dogs don’t have souls. Or if they have souls for that matter. Because first of all, I don’t even like animals which could mean that I have no soul. And secondly, oh for crying out loud, I don’t have a secondly because I JUST DON’T KNOW.
And p.s. I appreciate your sweet encouragement, dearly beloved son of mine, to study harder so that I know these things.
So evidently I need to do my homework. And also, fix my face so that my pictures don’t make Luke’s eyes cry. Seminary I will do. Botox, not so much.
Now I need to go study. Or perhaps pray for my family.
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