This is the second year we’ve planted a little garden for you. You really enjoy it, it’s a way to teach you about the life cycle of plants and it’s a great way to make you responsible for something that is fun rather than tedious. It’s on your chore chart, “water plants.” And you get excited every time we fill up that Dora watering can and you get to rain on your flowers. They’ve already sprouted. We’ll see how long we can keep them alive this summer…
It’s hard to find families who have the exact same age kids as we do. But we have managed a couple of times, and it’s so fun to get together and watch you all play. Nathan and Michelle are just about the same age as you guys and we occasionally get together with them at the park or at our houses. This time we had them over and we enjoyed some pool time in the backyard despite the bipolar desert weather that couldn’t decide whether it was warm enough. But we have a whole summer ahead of us and I’m sure we’ll do it again.
Mimi had a day off and we heard about a brand new baby giraffe born at the Living Desert, so I pulled you out of preschool for a morning and we braved the heat to go check it out. The first half hour we spent was worth the trip. We got to watch Kubwa (the baby) run across the fields on those long, brand new baby legs and both you and Josiah had the chance to feed the Mom some acacia leaves. After that, the day was pretty miserable. Hot and humid. We heard a lot of your characteristic 4-year-old “I just don’t want to”s and your “but I just can’t”s.
I think every new parent hears the “just wait until she can talk…” line at least a few dozen times. I certainly did. I’m sure that line means a lot of different things to seasoned parents. You haven’t really entered the “why” phase I was warned of. You don’t gibber on about everything, talking constantly. For me the “just wait until she can talk” warning has translated into “just wait until she can debate everything with you.” You can come up with a reason you can’t or don’t want to do just about everything. Or you want to do it a different way, or at a different time, or you have to do something else first, or your “leg hurts” (or some other body part) or you’re “too tired.” Everything is a debate. Four years old and you are an expert manipulator, using every trick in the book to do things your own way.
I’m praying for wisdom, I’ll tell ya that much. It’s easy to get frustrated and bark at you to just “do it.” But I’ve found that isn’t very effective. I want to learn to guide you, to shepherd you, to encourage you to make good choices rather than just bully you into doing what I want. That might work now, when you’re four, but I know it won’t work when you’re 15. Lord, help me. And He does. I have so much to learn about parenting and need so many reminders to rely on Him to show me how and what to do. He is always faithful, when I listen. And He has told me very clearly to not bully you, that it won’t work. Day by day… learning to take the path that takes more effort, more time and more restraint. The last photo in this post, you were being difficult. You had decided that you couldn’t walk anymore. After a couple hours of frustrating attitudes, Mimi and I just looked at each other and laughed. Mimi nailed it on the head when she looked at me, laughed and said “she’s like a moody teenager!” We love you, babe, and you’re such a good girl. You’re just learning about boundaries, and expressing yourself, and what’s okay and what’s not. You’re learning, like we all have to throughout the course of our lives, that we don’t always get what we want and we sometimes have to do things we don’t want to do. I’m 35 and I still have a hard time accepting that sometimes. I have 30 years on you and still struggle, so I’ll cut you some slack. And I’ll keep praying…
Last year you weren’t old enough to participate, Josiah. This year, I wasn’t sure. But we gave you a bucket and gave it a go and our pre-church Easter Egg hunt was a smashing success. I didn’t anticipate that you would actually walk around the yard, find eggs, and put them in your bucket. But you did! And you did it until there were no more eggs to be found.
I feel like you’re always surprising me with what you’re able to do. It comes before I’m ready, before I anticipate it happening. With you, Adela, we (I) was always reading the books that told me when to expect what when, and I was always waiting for the next thing, the next milestone. But with you Josiah, it just happens, and your Daddy and I look each other and say “he can do that?” “he understood that?” and we raise our eyebrows and our hearts clench in our chests just a little as realize that you grew up a bit more and we didn’t even know it until that instant. So grown up. Such a little man. I’m so bummed I didn’t get a picture of you with your sports jacket on. You have a khaki one that you wore to church over this outfit. One word. Stunna.
You’re an old pro at the hunt now, Adela, but you still hada great time. And you were an excellent big sister, followed our guidelines, and left all the orange eggs for Josiah to pick up.
