(Disclaimer: If poop-talk is offensive, be forewarned!)
My firstborn is a natural student, much like me. She comes by her studious heart naturally. She helps her friends, her sisters, and anyone else who will let her be the boss. She loves to learn and she comes from a long line of teachers.
In my foolish expectations, I thought my twins would be the same. Ha! Yes, you may laugh at me.
You know. Stellar students. Well-Behaved. Attentive. Polite. Courteous. Need I go on??
I may have been wrong.
We mamas work very hard to ensure our children are not THOSE children. Right? I am a teacher. I know all about THOSE children. I teach them every day and I have a new batch every year. We laugh about their antics over lunch and we lament over how difficult it can be to teach them sometimes.
And isn't it appropriate that the Lord would choose to humble me and smooth out some of my perfectionist tendencies through my twins? I feel like that Lord has used them to smooth out so many rough edges that I'm sometimes convinced any more smoothing might cause me to slip right out of my own skin. Which may not necessarily be a bad thing.
Here's how this unfolded:
Kadence is fascinated with what we fondly call bathroom talk. You know, poop and pee stuff. Any conversation should have a random poopy or peepee thrown in for effect. (Why is there not a parent manual somewhere? And why is this tidbit of information not in it??). And the more inappropriate the place, the more likely poop and pee are to make an appearance.
The first week of school she was using the facilities and her teacher heard a shout.
Upon investigation, she discovered Kadence in the bathroom trying to poop.
"Can you help me prease?" Kadence asks with her little three year old lisp.
"Well, no, I'm sorry Kadence, but I can't help you poop."
"Can you stay wif me?"
"If you like."
A pause. Kadence pushes. A mischevious glint and a devlish smile and then..."Wait for it. Wait for it..." Plop.
Her teacher laughs. I'm mortified.
Who does this?
Sitting in circle time, Kadence is chasing dust motes with her fingers, probably because to her they look just like pixie dust on that Tinkerbell movie.
Carol shows her numbers. Kadence not paying attention at all, guesses. "That's One."
Ryleigh, watching from the other side of the circle, widens her eyes, furrows her eyebrows in thought and says adamantly to her teacher, "Kadence doesn't know anything."
Her teacher thinks. Okay, if you know so much, let's see you do it. To Ryleigh she says, "Okay Ryleigh, you try." She holds up number 1.
Ryleigh: "That's One."
She holds up number 3.
Ryleigh: "That's free." (her version of three)
She holds up number 7.
Ryleigh: "That's number 7."
Hmmmm. Okay smarty pants.
Meanwhile, Kadence is still chasing dust motes.
Her teacher holds up their names written on strips of paper to teach them how to visually recognize their names.
The teacher holds us K's name. "Kadence look here."
Ryleigh, again, the proverbial older sister by four minutes, sees what's NOT happening and officiously inserts her helpfulness.
"Kadence, that's your name." Then to her teacher, "She's not paying 'tention."
Oh heavens. A scholar, a space cadet, and a smarty pants. Awesome. At least I have alliteration.
So by the end of their first month of school I have some new truths to live by:
1. Kadence has educated her classmates on the wonder and regularity of poop. According to her teacher, this is not necessarily a bad thing. Huh?
2. I am guaranteed a story just about every day.
3. My children, while certainly not perfectly behaved, are not delinquents. More like puppies. In the teething stage.
4. I probably need to lighten up.
5. I need to allow my kids the freedom to explore the world, to figure out what to do and how to do it, to back off and get out of the way. There are no cookie cutter kids. And their gifts and talents will not be identical. The only way for them to discover their gifts is to let them be. I need to practice gratitude for their unique qualities and pray for wisdom as I help grow them in Jesus.
6. Really, everybody needs a little more humor. Even if it's just poop talk.
Update: Saturday Kadence was talking bathroom talk and I called her on it.
"Kadence, we don't say those words. That's bathroom talk."
She looks at me. And with utter sincerity says:
"But I'm in the bafroom."
And so you are.
And so you are.
Grace Always Rises,