“Hey, Patch, are those clothes finished?”
“…working on it, Mom.”
30 minutes later…
“How’s it going, son?”
“I’m doing it…”
30 minutes later…
“Hey, as soon as you finish you can go ride your bike with Anna!”
“OK, Mom, I’m folding….”
It always amazed me that certain children doing a “simple” household chore, folding clothes, could take SO long, and still never really be completely finished! Even after he thought it was done, random clothing and isolated socks still littered the folding space. I could have it done in 10 minutes–completely folded and put away!
Are there answers to these puzzling little people mysteries as we raise our children? (more…)
Smitty Johnson plays golf with his young son. And he is serious about teaching his son how to play the game well. Johnny Smith also plays golf with his young son, and he is equally serious about teaching his son to play well.
As you might imagine, they each have a different style in teaching. Mr. Johnson is a hindsight teacher. As he plays a round of golf with his son, he watches silently, sees the results, and then asks questions: What club did you use on that shot? Where were you trying to hit the ball? How far away from the green did you think you were? Did it turn out like you wanted? Then he encourages his son, “Hey, you’ll do better next time.”
Mr. Smith approaches his son a little differently. He is a foresight teacher. (more…)
Last week I wrote about our family picture shoot and my own impatience in the process. I asked for any other stories that you might want to submit, mainly so that I wouldn’t feel so alone in the role of spoiler. Thank you, Amy Kendall, for sending your pics and for your brief narrative.
Amy’s sister wanted everyone in white shirts for the picture, but somehow Amy did not get the word. In Amy’s words, “I don’t think I was a ‘picture’ of Christ that day.” The final result is below. (more…)
It was a beautiful summer day, and all of our kids were playing outside: Anna, Patrick, William, and Judith. It was one of those “in and out” days, hot and humid in the deep south. They were coming in for something to drink on and off all day. In and out. In and out.
Judith, just three at the time, was speaking to me and trying to tell me something that was important to her. While she was speaking, Patrick rushed in, interrupted, and caused her to lose her train of thought.
“He erased me!” (more…)
Little Billy was only three years old. It was nighttime, and we were going through our routine. First he had a fun, relaxing bubble-bath. Brushing teeth was next, then… time for a snuggly story. Prayer together–the last thing on the agenda. I was praying for him: “Thank you, Lord, that Billy is so kind to his brothers and sisters. Thank you that he loves them and shares with them.”
“No, Mom!” he stopped me. “I’m not that nice! Don’t say all those good things about me.” (more…)