Wednesday, January 18, 2012

roid rage

Yesterday morning was rough. I walked into the boys’ room to discover that Truett had, yet again, pulled diapers out of the changing table and thrown them around the room. After doing a time-out and picking them up, I sent him to the bathroom to brush his teeth with a warning to leave his brother’s toothbrush alone. I went to check on him and saw Jem’s toothbrush lying in a different spot. When questioned, Tru said that he had sucked the toothpaste off of it. I told him he needed to go sit on his bed.

  At this point, he ran out into the hallway and turned to look at me. His face got red, the veins on his neck stood out and he pointed his finger at me as he screamed, “You can’t make me little boy.” If he was a full-grown man I would have been scared of him, of his anger. Thankfully he is a roided-up raging maniac trapped in a two-year old’s body. And I found myself fighting back laughter.

Will he ever grasp the truth that he is smaller and weaker than me? Does he imagine himself to be a giant or that the volume of his “no” will change the outcome? I scooped him up and dealt with the defiance and disobedience.

As I look back on it now, I can see myself in him. My belief that I can change God and His plans. This idea that I’m bigger than I really am. And the thought that God looks at me with love and is possibly trying to hold in a chuckle. Saying to Himself, “Someday she’ll get it.”

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