Elephant-Boy and Lion-Girl
My earliest memories go back to about age three. Noting this about a week ago, I realized that if I could just get my fairy godmother to wave her wand and transform me into the perfect, most patient mother that night, then maybe there was a chance for a clean slate- all of his memories only now setting into the crevices of his amazing little brain. But the other day Evan was putting on his new blue sneakers and they must've reminded him of last winter's sneakers because he said, "Are these my shoes from Jacksonville...remember when I jumped in the mud and mommy said-" (and this is the point where I tense every muscle in my body for fear he's about to quote something with the impatience of a nursing home resident instead of a young, tender mother, but instead he said with great tenderness and inflection,) "Oh, Evan...you can't do that." (And I exhale and relax.) Phew. That was close- and yet another reminder that I needed to click my heels or put a tooth under my pillow or more realistically, beg God to please give me His patience even though I squelch the Spirit numerous times a day- just have mercy!
But when, a few days after this walk down memory lane, he decided to take another one, (one I prefer to forget) about the cracker and applesauce days of old. "You remember when mommy said 'you want circle or square crackers,' you remember that mommy- in Jacksonville," and it dawned on me that it may be too late. The permanent damage may be done and my only hope is to prevent further corruption. This child is not any normal child, and he certainly isn't my child. I only remember things with very vivid, bright images. This is the child of an elephant. Elephant Boy, that's who he is.
Now on the other hand I have my girl- I'm forever learning new insights on her, too. The main one as of late has been that despite my deepest desires and dreams for her, she's bound to grow up to be a professional cheerleader. Her vocal chords! My Heavens! It just occurred to me (I guess I'm either brainwashed by them or just dense) that she only has two volumes: !) soft and saturine sweet (when she wants something) and 2) truck-driver-husky, guttural, and demanding (when she wants something and doesn't want to waste time sucking up for it.) Remember This is Spinal Tap? Well Madalyn's amp goes to eleven. She brings a whole new meaning to "I am woman, hear me roar." It's this quality that points her towards the pleated skirt and megaphone lifestyle. What really put the period on that last sentence was when after listening to the Hokey Pokey chorus in her room the other day, after they sang, that's what it's all about, she added an emphatic and guttural al-RIGHT! And I can get over that- the cheerleading career- just so long as she does it to the glory of God. (But I can't resist pointing out that it'll be awfully difficult to do that unless they double the fabric up top and lower the hemline requirements in the NFL.)
