Early yesterday afternoon while Nolan was napping and I was folding laundry, Owen called out to me from his room.
“Mama! Maaaamaaaa!! Come read with me?”
“In a little while, bud. Keep playing and I’ll come check on ya when I’m done.”
This load of clothes was one of those that had ended up washed twice and finally dried much later because life happens several times a day in our house. Bumps and scrapes and meltdowns and potty accidents and spilled milk and learning to handle big emotions had pushed everything else way, way down on the priority list.
But I was past determined.
I was doggedly laser focused on checking off at least this one task on a long mental list of to-dos.
Two tees and a pair of size 4T underoos into folding, again I hear,
“Mama … Mama … Pleeeeease! I can’t read this one.”
This made me chuckle because he can’t really read any of them yet, but we just went with it.
“Which one? What book is it? Maybe look at the pictures for a little while.”
“No! I neeeed you! You can come now?!?”
Sigh.
I know every parent understands this moment, this constant tug-of-war between head and heart,
… between 30 minutes of child-free, sticky-touch-free alone time—in which folding laundry by oneself feels like a mini vacation—and a 30-minute time-in full of snuggles and giggles or quiet presence and teachable moments depending on the tone of the day,
… between self and selflessness.
All good. All vital. But when we become parents, the scales tip immediately and permanently in the latter’s favor.
So we remind ourselves that babies don’t keep, and we cuddle up tight with our hearts in our laps and read the same story for the twentieth time that week.
“Mama, we can read THIS one.”
Owen had flipped open The Jesus Storybook Bible to the Servant King passage about Jesus’s washing his friends’ feet, something only the humblest servants of the day did.
My boy giggled—a lot—when we got to the part about the animals pooping in the streets, making people’s dusty, sandaled feet even stinkier and dirtier.
“Blech! Yuck! Peeee-yew!”
After a longer-than-normal day for all of us, his scrunched-up little nose and silly, over-the-top expressions dissolved any lingering mom-guilt and gently reconnected us.
Ha! Potty humor for the win!
We read on and toward the middle of the story, Jesus tells his friends that he’s washing their feet because he loves them and that they should do the same for one another.
Love others. Serve others. Fairly straightforward.
Though, it’s not the first time this mama has teared up a bit reading from this book with my boys—boys who will one day be young men, maybe husbands and fathers—and prayerfully I hope they are good, compassionate, loving, joyful people who serve others and their communities without hesitation nor too much skepticism.
After a few more minutes, Owen began to fidget and ask about the animals and if there were any trucks and on it went, so I hugged him closer and closed the book.
What you may not know about Owen is that he has the sweatiest feet of any almost-four-year-old kid I’ve ever known, and his own sandals get pretty ripe after a week or two of serious playtime. So we routinely rinse the stink off his feet and clean his sandals.
“Hey bud, what did you think about the story?”
Without pause,
“They had reeeeally stinky feet! Jesus loved them a lot!”
“Hahaha! I suppose He did!”
Owen furrowed his brow, took several seconds to think, leapt out of my lap, and put his sticky, marker-covered little hands on both sides of my face like he does when he wants my undivided attention.
“Mama.”
Trying my best to not grin because this is obviously serious, “Yes, Owen.”
“I have a thought.”
“What is your thought??”
“I’m thinking you love me a WHOOOLE lot!”
Both arms went straight up in the air, the biggest toothy smile crossing his face. Before I could even respond, his arms were around my neck, and he was back in my lap exclaiming,
“Awwww. I love you too, Mama.”
Mush. A big ole pile of it and laughter and awe at how his budding young mind put all of that together.
And to think I almost missed it for a pile of clean clothes.
Choose to read the book, mamas and daddies. Read it again and again and again.
The stinky sandals and laundry will keep.
Feature photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
