If You Don’t Think God Has a Sense of Humor...
If you don’t believe in miracles or that God has an AWESOME sense of humor then you need to go spend some time with a child. They are hysterical little bundles of miraculous awesome tied up in funny little human forms.
It was well past my 19-month-old’s bedtime. I had been rocking her exhausted little body for what felt like eternity. In reality, it was probably 30 minutes or so. In bedtime hours, that’s forever! I have all the right oils on her feet and between her shoulder blades and around her belly button, just in case. The diffuser is going with a beautiful blend of chamomile, juniper berry, and lavender. The room is at the perfect temperature. The sound machine is running at the perfect volume. The Little One has her primary stopper in her mouth, her milk in one hand, her back-up stopper in the other, and BOTH of her blanks are loosely draped over her belly and her legs, making sure to not cover up her feet. Lord help us if we covered up the feet. But this child is still wide awake. I’m seriously starting to get motion sickness from all of the rocking.
Raise the curtain! This show is just getting started. The first act includes a lovely solo by the Little One. It’s a wonderful little musical medley of Baby Shark, the ABC’s, and the theme song to Shaun the Sheep. This tiny little creature is suffering from the worst ear worm songs imaginable. I can tell by the look of desperation on her face that she is just as annoyed as I am by this toddler montage.
It doesn’t happen often but occasionally I’ll have a stroke of genius. Again, very seldom happens since mom brain has settled in for what I’m assuming to be the rest of my life. I decide to sing a lullaby to my little darling. Granted, I haven’t tried this since she was an infant but why not? Let’s give it a whirl. Maybe it will put us all out of our misery. Here’s the problem. I don’t know that many lullabies. In my head I’m trying to decide between Amazing Grace and Silent Night. Because if I’m going to be singing A cappella it’s got to be one of those two, for everyone’s sake. So, I opt for Silent Night. It was the crowd favorite a year ago.
Without waiting for my little diva to take a break in her medley, I begin singing in a soft, quiet voice. I’m thinking, that’s not so bad. Perhaps I should have chosen a lower key. I’m roughy two lines into the classic Christmas hymn when I look down, expecting to stare lovingly into the Little One’s eyes. She’ll give me a sleepy half smile. She’ll finally let her beautiful blue eyes close and drift off to Neverland.
Ha! I look down just in time to see her tiny little hand come flying towards my face with her fingers taut and her palm out, stopping mere millimeters from my nose, her sippy cup half full of milk tumbling towards the floor. Before my brain has time to register what is happening, without removing the primary stopper from her mouth, she says in a tone that sounds as though she feels sorry for me, “Thop. Thop. No, no. No, no, Mama.” I stop singing and unknowingly stop rocking.
We sit still in complete silence for a brief moment. Then she gives me that sleepy half smile I was expecting. Her beautiful blue eyes open wide. Without skipping a beat, she picks right back up where I so rudely interrupted her and the music montage from toddler hell begins again.
In essence, I was booed and plucked off stage by a one-year old. I settled in and somehow managed to survive the final rendition of Baby Shark and even the encore performance of Happy Birthday. Eventually the Little One fell asleep. It took another 45 minutes but she did finally drift off.
Only God could make such a sweet little soul with such big opinions and assertiveness at only 19 months old. Seriously. If you don’t believe in miracles or that God has a sense of humor, go spend some time with a child.