Every now and then children will say something so absolutely precious and innocent your heart doesn’t feel quite big enough to hold all the love you have for them. Whenever one of these treasured moments take place I run for paper and pen to record their voices in time for I’ve learned the mind is not always as reliable as we wish it to be.
Through the years I’ve filled many a page with the adorable ramblings of my kids. Now that they are, technically, grown ups, I wish I’d preserved the not so adorable things they’ve said and done to use against them one day. In all honesty though, it would be a short chapter in the book of our lives.
I was blessed with respectful kids. No, really, I was. Of course, I’m not taking into account the Bipolar rantings of my now 22-year-old son, I know he wouldn’t say the things he sometimes says under normal circumstances. I also choose to overlook the thankfully few hormonally charged outbursts the girl child went through. Now, it’s her husbands turn to survive them.
Today I was blessed to recall one of those memories with such clarity, I actually giggled out loud and shed a few happy tears.
When my daughter was six years old she did nothing but sing, from early in the morning until late into the night. I remember her singing one afternoon and I smiled as I listened to her little voice while I did the dishes. After a few renditions of Jesus Loves the Little Children, each a bit different from the last, she was at my side.
I told her how much I enjoyed her performance, expecting the usual thank you and a ten minute conversation about how she would be a professional singer when her veterinary clinic was closed for evenings, holidays and weekends, but our conversation went slightly different that day.
“I don’t think I like that song anymore.” she announced.
I was a bit stunned, it had always been one of her favorites. I questioned her about this sudden dislike of the once loved song..
“Don’t you think it’s kind of gross?” she looked so serious. I was perplexed. “Gross? Why would you think it was gross?”
She crinkled up her nose. “Well, most of it’s okay until it gets to the diaper part. I don’t think it should talk about that, I mean diapers stink and it’s just gross.”
I would have laughed if she’d not looked so sincere. I had no clue what she was talking about. I told her there wasn’t any mention of diapers in the song, but the look on her face told me she wasn’t buying it.
Her little voice echoed through the kitchen, it wasn’t until she reached the second, alternate refrain, I understood what she was questioning. I listened as she sang, “Jesus diapered all the children, all the children of the world . . .”
I knew better than to laugh at her, it took everything in me to explain what the verse said, “Jesus died for all the children . . .” Her eyes instantly lit up!
“Oh!” she shouted. “I get it!” She skipped away and continued to sing until the sun set on our day.
I cherish these little memories . . .