Organized Chaos

 

Bryce loved Logos Basketball Camp (isn't Mr. Whitling a trooper). Phil took Bryce the first day, and stayed to watch for a bit--and thought it was hilarious. I intended to stay for a bit the next day . . . but it was too much for me to just sit there and watch. That's why it's so good for Bryce to be a part these sorts of things, and why it's so, so good for me to not be allowed to run out there and organize.

I'm working on appreciating chaotic joy, exuberant fellowship, thunderous delight. I have a long way to go, but am thankful I get to learn with two adorable boys, rather than twenty plus eager would-be basketball players.

Over five or so years ago I was visiting with a friend, and at one point she was changing her almost-toddler aged son's diaper. For some reason this was taking much too long for him, and so he determined that kicking his mother would perhaps speed things up. He gave it to her good and she winced in pain. I didn't realize it until she spoke, but I had unconsciously been expecting her to be all sterness and say, "No! No kicking! We never kick!" and then finish changing him. But . . . she didn't (and this was huge for me) she very gently and cheerfuly said, "Honey, we don't kick in anger. We kick for fun!" as she took his little legs and kicked them for him, smiling and laughing.

And every now and then I remember her example, when I'm in the midst of one of these sorts of exchanges,

Mom: When do we spit?
Kids: When we brush our teeth!
Mom: We don't spit all the time because . . .
Kids: We're not llamas!

Or, another favorite around her [yes, that does mean we have to say it a lot]

Mom: Silly! Don't lick me:) I'm . . . not . . . a . . .
Kid: Popsicle!