Tuesday, March 15, 2011


The other day Jude ran up to me in the kitchen and started saying with much passion, "rape! rape! rape!" I tried to keep calm as I asked Jude how he knew that word and what he thought it meant. Somewhere in the midst of my mind running through the worst case scenario, I realized he was pointing to the refrigerator. And that by "rape," he meant "grape." Of course.

Jude has a fascination with crackers, and was on a vehement graham cracker kick for several months. The problem was that he couldn't quite pronounce the word, "cracker." There were many days in Target that a toddler was heard several aisles away yelling, "Moe crack! Moe crack!" I blame the parents.

Our dare devil of a son has a propensity to climb on top of or into things without giving thought to how he'll get down or out of said things. His response when he realizes that he's unable to get himself to safe ground is to yell at Shawn or I, "I stuck!" Except he leaves out the "t."

When I've had a particularly rough day dealing with a toddler hyped up on grapes and crack, I'm tempted to say, "Yes...yes, dear son. Sometimes you do."

And then I see this face, and I remember how privileged I am that God called him to love, teach, and steward this little life -

- no matter how embarrassed I get when he accidentally yells inappropriate things in large crowds of people.

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