For those of you reading this who live in, well, just about any place but Seattle, you are experiencing the joys of spring—seeing the sun for more than an hour a day, leaving the house without a coat, and maybe playing in the grass without soaking your pants up to your knees. But for those of us living in the "Emerald City" (moss is green afterall), we're stuck in what seems like the 11th month of winter.
When you are a 3-year-old boy, the days inside begin to get a little mundane. Not to worry though, Alden has found a few new hobbies to keep himself busy. One of his new favorites is to dump off any pillow/cushion/blanket onto the floor in a great heap, after which he races cars off of the freshly stripped furniture into the pile.
Those are the calmer days. A few weeks ago Alden woke up early and was being too loud for Tula to sleep so I took his Leap Pad, a few cars, and some blankets, sat him on the couch, and climbed back into bed. This is something that we've done on several occasions without any problems, so I instantly drifted back to sleep. I fell into a much deeper sleep than I thought I would because the next thing I heard was the sound of a toilet gurgling as it struggled to flush. I looked at the clock, thinking that maybe 15 minutes had passed, but it was nearly an hour later.
I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom and saw Alden staring perplexed at the toilet, wondering why the cloudy white water in the toilet couldn't manage to flush down a bra. Why was the water so white? I was a little nervous to ask. There was a strong peppermint smell in the air and as I plunged my hand in to the bowl (yuck!) to fish out my undergarments, I came across what was previously a full tube of toothpaste, now pinched and squeezed nearly empty.
I went into the living room, hoping that the mess would be contained in the bathroom. Nope. Toothpaste had been smeared, smashed, and squished on the couch, on the leap pad, and on the floor. I called for back-up. Patrick crawled out of bed but before we could grab Alden, I heard the kids' bedroom door close and Tula babbling to her brother. My mind flashed back to the time that Alden smeared her face with diaper cream, and I was anticipating a similar scenario. Thankfully, Tula was spared from a toothpaste facial.
I'm convinced that whoever coined the term "terrible-twos" has never had a 3-year-old. Alden seems to challenge our authority—and sanity—daily. There are times when I feel completely unequipped to be a parent, overwhelmed with the task of raising children who are respectful, kind, and most importantly love Jesus. Just when I feel totally defeated, God reminds me of His goodness, and that He loves my children, too. I pray everyday that Alden sees his need to be forgiven for his sins and to be reconciled to us and to Jesus. I am also reminded that I often act like a stubborn 3-year-old, refusing to listen to what God is telling me to do and being slow to repent of my sin.
