He raced ahead of me into the kitchen, yanking on the childproof cabinet door before I got there. “Get it, MomMom!” Rushing around, nearly barking militant orders, a simple “Let’s make popcorn!” sent my popcorn-loving 2 year-old into fast motion.
“Need this,” as he pulls the foil cover out of a drawer.
“Get the popcorn,” while pointing to the freezer.
“Need some butter,” as he opens the fridge.
“I carry the bowls,” he offers.
Good grief, the child could make popcorn all on his own! Who taught him that?! And I am reminded.
He is watching my every move.
Hearing my every word. Learning from my tone. My encouragement. My criticizing. My excitement. My “Just a second!” (for the fifth time). Always.
They all are, silly little brilliant impressionable sponges.
It’s both enthralling and sobering, wrapped up into one crazy mess of Please, Lord! Help me do this Mom Thing right!
Christmas is coming. What will they see? What will they hear? What will they learn… from me?
Will the decorations go up with a grumpy heave ho and “What a mess!” or will 5 ornaments on one low branch receive crowning glory just as the brightly lit angel on top of the tree?
Will gift gathering and wrapping be a stress or a joy?
Will one more commitment overshadow one more quiet dinner around the glowing Advent wreath?
Will I spit fire at wildly inappropriate child behavior, or spit laughter with my family as we share silly moments, just us?
How will I center our Christmas season? What do I hear in my own words? They hear them, amplified. What do I see in my own actions? They see them, magnified.
They are watching.