Happy 4th of July to all my readers! I hope your day is one of fun, family, and good memories in the making.
Yesterday I took both kids to church by myself and was reminded of a time earlier this summer when I attempted this feat and didn’t have such great results… I thought it would make a good Manic Monday post to share –
Ever have a day where you just can’t get out of the house? That particular Sunday started out normal enough – the kids had been fed and I had even gotten a shower. Dressed and hair combed, I went to the living room and told our preschooler that we got to go to Jesus’ house that day. She loves our church because she says it looks like a castle, important when you are 3 and love princesses.
She picked out a little summer dress to wear and we got her hair brushed. Meanwhile our toddler, who had just turned 2, was playing cars with Daddy. All was good.
Looking at the clock I realized we were pushing for time, so I threw snacks in my bag, made sure I had paper and crayons and told Peanut to go get her shoes on. That’s when she noticed Daddy was wearing his “work” pants.
You see, it was early this summer and we had had so much rain that the grass was past my knees. With his work schedule, 2 young kids, and rain on the days we actually had time to mow, the grass had gotten out of hand. Daddy was planning to stay home and get some of it cut before my parents came to visit that afternoon.
Now our little girl is a Daddy’s girl, and on the weekends she doesn’t want to leave his side. This was true that day. Daddy buckled her in the car while I got her brother strapped in, and then he said, “Goodbye,” and closed the door. That’s when the tears started. You would have thought we weren’t ever going to see him again.
“Daddy! Oh, Daddy!”
I pulled out of the garage, assuring her that Daddy would be home when we returned in an hour. She kept crying. Her brother started to look worried, too. I tried to cheer her up by telling her that Grandma and Grandpa were visiting after church. She just bawled louder. I got to the turn around in our driveway and realized that at this point if we drove to church we’d not only be a little late but I’d be bringing a bawling 3 year old and a panicked 2 year old, not a good combo.
So, I pulled back into the garage. That’s when our youngest started crying, “Gra’ma! Gra’ma!” I guess he thought we were going to drive to Grandma’s house and since we came back home he wouldn’t get to see Grandma that day. At least, that was my best guess at the time.
I assured him that Grandma and Grandpa were coming to our home and he’d still get to see them in a little while. He kept crying. Then his sister started back up, “I want to go to Jesus’ house!”
“I thought you wanted Daddy, so I pulled back in the garage,” I said, trying to calm her down. No such luck. She went back and forth over wanting Daddy and going to church.
Her brother screamed louder, “Gra’ma!”
They were a mess.
My husband stepped outside to see what was going on. One look and he (thankfully) was smart enough to get a move on and get a crying kid out of the car for me. We took them both inside; Peanut snuggled up next to her daddy, and I put in a Veggie Tales video. (Hey, if I wasn’t getting them to church the least I could do was put in Veggie Tales to talk about.)
Thankfully yesterday went a whole lot better…