Every day, in ways I never dreamed I could, I manage to screw up this mothering gig. But every day, in ways I could never have hoped for, my kids redeem me. And sometimes they're damn funny when they're doing it.
Redemption comes mainly in the form of my kids absorbing what I consider the most important possible value, faith in a loving God. Having grown up an Orthodox Christian, I keep icons, images of Christ and the saints, in every bedroom in the house. And I was deeply gratified one recent night when Libby decided she wanted to "kiss Deezus goodnight," and went over to her nightstand to get the icon of the Christ. I tell you, there is nothing cuter than a two year old laying some major sugar on the Lord. But as she climbed back in the sack, she asked, "Kiss backyard angel?" I'll admit to being a little confused, but since there was only one other icon around, I said, "Do you mean your Guardian Angel?"
And my kid looks at me like I'm as dumb as a bag of hair, and says, "YES. Wanna kiss Backyard Garden Angel." And she did.
Then there's her brother, who despite an initial reluctance to attend Vacation Bible School, has been singing the songs he learned in VBS ever since. He was recently overheard trying to enlist Libby to sing the second part of a two-part chorus by feeding her her lines ("Praise ye the Lord") and telling her, "I'll sing the Howie Lou."
Yeah, you've heard it: Howie Lou, Howie Lou, Howie Lou, Howie Lou-ya/Praise ye the Lord!
Which makes perfect sense if you think about it, actually. I mean, consider the Lord's Prayer: Our Father, who art in Heaven/Howard be thy name.