B[l]essing

Little Man, now quickly approaching his third birthday, bears the behavioral stretch marks of a baby turning into a boy: he eats with silverware but still occasionally paints himself with poo; he blows bubbles in his milk but can handily clean it up when it overflows the rim of his glass; he'll throw down UFC-style with any of us, but as soon as someone says "ow!" he hastens to offer "kissits" to the injured party.

That same duality presented itself the other night when, after we'd put him to bed, he walked out to the top of the stairs and cried. Having torn the cover off a favorite Golden book, he was inconsolable until Daddy reattached it with packing tape. He said thanks and went back to bed. Then, twenty minutes later, we heard him yelling again. His daddy got up, rounded the corner and prepared to go upstairs and have The Bedtime Talk with our son. When he returned to the living room, though, he was beaming with pride and looked as though he might be fighting back tears.

Mister Nygren had sneezed a few moments prior; Little Man had heard it and, in his barely-still-conscious state, stumbled back to the landing to cry out, "Bessyou, Dad! Dad? Bessyou, Daddy!"

He just wanted to bless his Daddy... and, in more ways than he knew, he had. 

Comments

[Gary]

Too good.

[J. Lo]

That's really awesome, how great it is to receive a sincere blessing froma child.

I hope I can become as a little child, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these.

The other day, Ian darted into our street, and on the way to church I told him that it was my job to keep him safe and that I could never forgive myself if he got hit by a car. He replied very sincerely, "It's okay daddy, God would forgive you."

[kristen]

kissits at our house by the boy are "biks."