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So he threw up all over.

This happens with as much ceremony as a sneeze in a household full of little ones. I immediately set to cleaning the muck, soaking my sobbing little guy in the tub, comforting him post trauma (it’s so dramatic to throw up when you’re small), and fetching the Lysol. This is where the first quirky intersection occurred.

Evidence of personal evolution #1: My first thought when I opened his bedroom door and saw the explosion was: “Bonus. He nailed the hardwood and not the carpet.” I wasn’t phased a bit – just gauging the damage to cleaning time ratio.

Evidence of personal evolution #2: As I knelt to erase the evidence with cleaner and paper towels, I spotted Jesus. Literally.

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Right next to the hamper, under the coats where He could only be spotted by one kneeling. That’s usually where we see Christ most isn’t it? This time the Christ child happened to be from the Fisher Price Little People set and had likely been deposited by my youngest. On seeing Him I thought, “So this is what love looks like today, isn’t it?” Me on my knees, cleaning up after a sick little man and reassuring him he wasn’t a bad boy for being sick, but loved and cherished and all better.

This encourages me to rethink the moments when parenting feels like a barefoot marathon over broken glass. The moments where sensory overload from hearing “mommy” repeated and demanded upon by little voices drowns out the joy of being with my children. This is just what love looks like today – fishy crackers, another diaper change, waiting a little longer so they can choose another hat or pet the dog. Reducing my urgency to get out the door so they can meander through their childhood days and so I won’t miss out on their shine.

“So this is what love looks like today, isn’t it?”

 

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