Resetting Time

It had been a particularly stressful morning. Living with a five year old can sometimes do that to you.

My son, it seems, had long ago mastered the five little English words that will, at one point in time, draw every parent to their knees pleading patience....

"I CAN DO IT MYSELF."

If you are hesitant in believing the truth that God does, even in this day work miracles, let's examine the larger picture, but in a smaller timeframe:

On first glance, after checking my watch, and verifying the time needed to accomplish the tasks in preparing to actually walk out the front door, I notice that I have none-time that is. My watch has mysteriously sped up 20 minutes, while the clock hanging in our living room seems frozen at about the time of daybreak-three hours earlier. I COULD call my Mom, who lives on the other coast, and gain an extra three hours, but I've already tried that- "Doesn't mesh with reality', she tells me. The woman holds no compassion when I vent my frustration, but she's still blessed with a darn good memory when it's least convienient...

So, here standing before me, is my child. Dressed. Including shoes. And socks.His now proper clothes suggest that adults whom we meet on the street will need to seek another source for the day in regards to parental neglect-or general bad taste. His hair is combed. Sort of. If I squint. Maybe focus instead on his big brown eyes.

But I just had to ruin the mood by asking:

"Did you brush your teeth?"

Like a deer caught in headlights, he froze and stared blankly in my general area...

Sighing,
I squat down, locking eyes with his and repeat-

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Ummm....." (the standard universal word for you-know-what...).

Creaking to a standing position, I drop my purse. Car keys. Take off my jacket. Think about preparing a snack, calling a friend, washing my windows,(well OK, that part is fantasy)...

Like Yoda in the Science Fiction Flick, I point my finger towards the hall and beyond with one word:

"Go."

Gotta give him credit. He turned, and disappeared into the general vicinity of the bathroom.

I think.

Sometimes, God provides me with unexpected moments of hidden joy in the mundane. My original plan was to follow, plead, remind, nag, and just get his body in motion.

The reality was that Grace was being unfolded and offered as a Gift as I, unseen by my son, watched...

He stood on one foot before entering the bathroom.
Balanced on the toe of his other foot was his shoe.

I could feel his concentration, and smiled as his still slightly pudgy hand clung to the doorway for support.

I jumped as he flung-kicked his shoe up and into the air. It soared over the bathtub and hit the wall with a solid thud, scoring a perfect landing.
Switching feet, he wiggled out of the other shoe, and it quickly followed suite.

After a rousing chorus of self-made fanfare, he tip-toed across every other tile, avoiding the blue ones.

Muttering loudly to himself, he said, "Stay away from them guys! They're evil...will eat my toes...and get my ears.. I justhaveta save the world...!"

He does that often.

That's part of his job. After all, if you don't learn the basics of how to save the world, what else can one, as a five year old do?

Tip-toeing closer to the sink, my child paused, contemplating a real problem: getting close enough to brush his teeth while avoiding (them blue tiles)...

Evidently, this was a problem easily solved, caused little concern for this hero. He dropped the toilet lid down and stood on the, um, handy-dandy plastic platform.

Lifting a sock encased foot, it hovered over the toilet handle for a mere second, then neatly flushed. Couldn't help but thinking of the irony. Had to remind him to flush under normal circumstances...Trying to damper the smile that willed it's way across my face, I watched as he raised his arms and exclaimed to his mirrored image,

"Yay!!! The engines works!!!"

He paused to look at his mirrored image, and I noticed a small spark of memory as his eyes cut to the general direction of the toothbrushes.He stretched out, leaned against the counter, and reached for the toothpaste. Screwed off the cap. Dropped it. In the sink. Stared for a moment or two, while clutching tightly to the toothpaste tube.

I knew he was concentrating hard, with full attention, since his tongue was out...

Was he trying to find the best course of action in picking up that cap?

With one slightly messy looking tube of toothpaste in hand, he activated his rescue mode-including full sound effects. Pulled up the metal rod to plug the sink, and twisted the cold water faucet on to dribble.

Firmly grasping ahold of the cold water knob with his free hand, he gave it a mighty twist, releasing a mini-falls of silvery liquid to the quickly filling sink.

I watched, still hidden from his view as the small white cap bounced merrily around, bobbing about in the man-made whitecaps of the newly created ocean.

Adding a squirt of liquid soap from the plastic Scooby-Doo dispenser, he gasped in mock horror as the water frothed. He called out directions to the endangerd cap:

"No! Don't go there! Them bubbles are no islands! They'll get you!"

Turning, he reached behind, and grabbed hold of a long trail of toilet paper not yet freed from its roll.

Holding the open tube of toothpaste in the same hand, it was leaving a turquoise trail as it snaked behind him-plopping from the edge of the toilet lid, to the floor between the counter; across the counter, to the lip of the sink...Then it simply ran out of steam, sort of curlicued
back to where he clutched it together with the mangled end of the paper-gluing all to his hand.

Did this stop him on his adventure"

Did I, in a sudden fit of common sense stop his adventuring?

Yeah, right.

He did turn off the water before it overflowed.

Used the end of the sticky paper as a makeshift lifeline to capture and pull the cap from it's porcelain ocean.

Pulled the plug to release the water and fake islands to the plumbing hidden beneath the oceans depths.

Wiped clean of toothpaste a mere five inches of the turquoise snake resting on the edge of the counter.With half a roll of toilet paper.

Threw it into the trash.

Climbed down from his perch.

Managed to get back into the tub while only standing on the white tiles.

Put his shoes back on.

Stepped out, avoiding the blue tiles one last
time.

And we met again by the front door.

For the third time that morning, I knelt down at eye level to the conqueror of all things deemed unimportant.

And smiled.

Asked:

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Uhhh...I forgot..."

With a wide grin, I ran my fingers through his hair.

"That's OK. I misread the clock."

We had plenty of time....
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"BE PATIENT, BEARING WITH ONE ANOTHER IN LOVE."-Ephesians 4:2