3.14.2017




This kid.

This stage amazes me, with the constant learning, growing, problem-solving, strategizing. Every day, more words, more empathy, more communication, more ways to circumvent our babyproofing efforts. One time last month he started biting me over and over.

"No, no, sweetheart, that's owie!"

He smiled at me in relief, and nodded vigorously. "Owie!"

He has another tooth coming in, and this time we both know the drill. He bites my thigh, locks eyes with me, and points to my oil stash. I marvel at his determination to communicate, glance ruefully at my growing collection of bruises, and dream of the day when his words will be clear enough for me to understand them before he has to resort to desperate measures. Then I get out the copaiba.

At the beginning of this parenting journey, I was so concerned that my kids ask for things the right way. A good parent never gives in to tantrums... right? Yet the God of David receives our tantrums with arms wide open, lavishing us with frustratingly inscrutable and perfect care. He gives us what we need, and THEN he helps us to understand it.

As I learn the art of parenting from Father God, I am also working on the art of the tantrum. The Psalmist is a good role model in that regard, and so is my sweet toddler. I have much to learn, but nonetheless I'm putting the finishing touches on a bundle tantrums, and preparing to publish them soon. I hope that you find them edifying, or at least entertaining. In any case, God has heard my cry, and that's really all that matters.

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