Sometimes it seems like life is full of Pop-tarts, Math homework, baseball pants, and cleaning up after the animals in this house of ours.
(A loose interpretation of “animals” would include the 8 year old boy who lives here.)
Because if picking up randomly strewn shoes and shin-length socks were an Olympic event, my normal day could be considered hard-core training. And I’m not even kidding.
And yeah, I know. This would be the perfect opportunity to teach Luke some life lessons about responsibility. But I like to view it this way: not only is my sanity spared when I occasionally pick these things up myself, but I’m improving his life long-term by reducing his future therapy costs.
Speaking of animals, our dog has made us famous in the community. Her picture has shown up on the neighborhood Facebook page no less than four times since mid-October. Which is just awesome. But really, it’s not.
Ruby is a wiry-haired Jack Russell terrier, who is quickly becoming the poster child for How Social Media Saves Runaway Animals. I keep waiting for the dog version of CPS to knock on our door, since we apparently don’t take good care of her and all.
In all actuality, her latest disappearances can be explained by the fact that Luke and his Band of Brothers haven’t mastered Shut the Front Door skills.
Nonetheless, it’s fantastic when relative strangers seek me out in the produce section of the Kroger to ask about Ruby. (Well at least we’re creating personal brand awareness.)
It reminds me of Luke’s Kindergarten Open House. I introduced myself to the father of the girl who sat next to Luke in class, and he said, “Oh, you’re Luke’s mom.”
I kind of laughed, until I realized he wasn’t.
And then it was just awkward.
In other recent news, our elementary school had Family Math Night on Tuesday night. Your theory on how I felt about that is inevitably correct.
When I mentioned to a friend of mine that we were planning to go, she regaled her wonderful experience and noted that her little family won a lot of awards.
Because yeah, I thought this was like a “Help the Parents Understand the Math Curriculum” kind of thing. I had no idea that it was a competition.
So I decided right then that we shouldn’t go. (Because, hello, there is a weak link on Team Dalke, and her name starts with an A.) Seriously, if one of your starting players needs paper and pencil for all situations involving addition and subtraction, it doesn’t necessarily bode well for victory.
Case in point, Luke asked if it was possible to get a sub for the mother position.
(He knows what’s up.)
We didn’t go. But I promise we aren’t really that shallow to skip out because of the inevitable loss. We had some other lame excuse, which I can’t recall right now.
Here comes the part where you close your eyes if you don’t want to hear sappy stuff about Jesus…
Luke went to his first bible study on Wednesday night. (The church gives every 3rd grader a new Bible, and once they receive them, these sweet kids get to attend Wednesday night youth dinner and bible study.)
I didn’t expect to get all sentimental-like when we dropped Luke off tonight. But as I watched him stand in line for his pancakes, my Melodramatic-Mother side came from nowhere. I had one of those moments of mental shock (that moms know well), where I couldn’t fathom how he’s already old enough for youth bible study.
(This didn’t last long, because it took him no time at all to bring his pancakes for me to cut up in disfigured triangles.)
This weighty moment was much more than the age factor, though. If there is one thing in this world that I want to pass down as an inheritance, it is a love for God’s word, and a desire to know and live into scripture.
More than wealth. More than status. More than possessions.
I want him to know Jesus. Because frankly, if there is anything I’ve learned, it’s that Jesus is richer than all that. He’s just so much more.
For a quick second, I thought this must be how Mary felt when she pondered all those things in her heart. (Luke 2:19)
But of course little-kid-Jesus wouldn’t have stomped his feet when he was told Sonic Spirit Night was already over.
What can you do?
Right now I think we’ll just keep working on teaching Luke to pick up his own shoes, and to shut the front door; and we’ll do our best to be real-life examples of how God’s word is the best thing he’ll ever experience.
Now pardon me while I go make sure we haven’t lost the dog again.
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