Little People, Deep Thoughts

As Tim and I laid on Dude's bedroom floor this morning, rummaging through thousands of colorful, tiny Lego pieces, we talked about the deep level of thinking that has come from our little people just in the past few days.  The examples of various conversations I've had with them kept going and going and going.  Granted, they were making farting noises and arguing over who was looking at who as we discussed these examples, but that's life as every parent of little people knows it.  

Conversation Summaries:

#1:  Dude and I were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework.  I asked him if there were other kids in his class who were adopted or knew about adoption.  A little boy of Asian descent had asked me questions about Dude being adopted at school the week before and I wondered if he too was adopted.  Dude said, "No, but Jimmy makes fun of me and laughs at me for being adopted.  He asks if I was and when I tell him yes he tells everyone to laugh at me.  I don't know why he laughs about it Mom."  My heart dropped and my fists clenched all in the same moment.  I told him that kids do mean things when they're confused or don't understand a situation and that Jimmy just didn't know what that meant for our family, so he acted mean.  Dude's reply?  "Well, next time someone asks me if I'm adopted I'm just going to say no so they won't laugh at me."  I wanted to grab his sweet face, but he doesn't like physical touch.  Instead I held his pale little hand and told him that we never lie about who we are and that God made us to be an awesome family and we wouldn't change anything about us.  I felt like someone had slapped me in the face with the reality that this was just the first of countless conversations like this to come.  Turns out, it WAS the little boy I had spoken with who was laughing at him.  Little punk.

#2:  Squirt knows that her brother goes to lots of special places and doctors.  She's typically dragged along to act as a waiting room fixture.  We never really explain the big picture of these occasions for fear that she'll see him as "sick" or "needing help."  In the car on Friday she says, "Mama, why brudder going to doctor today?" He was getting his brain MRI done that afternoon and we told her she had a special play day so we could take Dude to the doctor.  I froze, mouth open, not sure how to respond.  The truth was that he was going to be put to sleep so the doctors could take pictures of his brain to make sure there isn't anything terribly wrong that would require immediate action.  Like a tumor that would change his and our lives.  THAT is what my brain had been telling myself.  And THAT reality freaked the shit out of me, so what would it do to an innocent 4 year old?  She sensed my silence and said, "Mom, what brudder DO at the doctor today?"  I told her that they were going to take pictures of his brain to make sure it was super healthy and we were so glad that we had healthy kids and that we should pray for all the kids who have to go to the doctor because they're sick.

She got a look of sadness on her squishy face and said, "Like Colin.  He sick and God has to make him better, right Mom?" Collin is a 5 year old friend of a friend who is battling cancer.  We've talked a lot about him and the reality of illness in the world.  "We don't have to lose our hair or take all dose medicines. Brudder just had to go to Brain Bounce."  (Brain Balance)  That little princess diva has an unbelievably deep understanding and perspective on what I tend to over think.  

#3:  10 minutes after that conversation, Dude got in the car.  He says, "Mom, did Amber (his birth mom) use a special blanket like Linsy's to cover up her boobs to feed me?"  Ok then.  I guess we're talking about this.  I told him that Amber did not use her body to feed him and that we used bottles to feed him and his sister.  He said, "Well, did you buy bottles before I came home so you could feed me?"  Yes, we sure did.  He then asked technical questions about how breasts work and if Amber had milk in hers.  And did I?  And of course, Squirt wanted the same information about Brook.  She wondered if she would ever be in my belly?  It bothers her that she was not in my belly. That's already evident.  I'll admit, those conversations aren't easy for me.   Naturally, this deep display of communication ended with both children acting as if they were giving birth in the backseat of the Honda Pilot.  And later I heard Dude ask Squirt why she was using a bottle to feed her dolls and had she considered feeding them from her boobs?  

#4:  We went hiking this weekend to take in the 60 degree bliss.  After misjudging how far our little jaunt would be, Tim ran back the 1.75 miles to get the car.  While we waited for our chauffeur, the kids and I plopped down on a huge rock next to a heard of buffalo and two impressive white horses.  That's all ture. Those animals were present, along with a ridiculous amount of buffalo crap.  Dude exclaims, very simply, "And now we're sitting on God."  I asked what he meant and he says, "Duh Mom.  God is our rock."  Oh sweet child.  You have no idea how true that is.  Or maybe you do and I'm just learning.

#5:  Squirt woke up at 2:30am last night and taps me on the shoulder.  She weepily says, "Mama, will you and Daddy be in heaven wif me?"  I sat up, lifted her into bed with me and asked what she meant.  She says, "I had a dream that my bed was on fire and I went to heaven with Jesus.  Will you and Daddy be there too? Because I will miss you so much if you don't come too."  Another long pause and mouth open moment for me.  I think I told her that she wasn't going to die until she was old and that Jesus and Mom and Dad will always be with her.  I remember feeling guilty ensuring her of something I have no control over.  I can't tell her that we can all die at any moment.  And so I didn't.  But I made sure to explain to her that no matter what happens, we all live in our each other's hearts.  That seemed to calm her, so I put her back to sleep and sat there staring at her for a long time.

#6:    At dinner tonight, we talked about MLK Day being the reason Dude doesn't have school tomorrow.  Neither of them knew about Mr. King so we explained that he was a black man who had a dream to change the way the world treats people with black skin.  Dude says, "Well, black people and Sarah (a little girl in his class) have the same heart as me!  And they have the same intestines too!  Why would we be mean to people who look different?"  We clenched our hearts and squeezed each other's legs to hold back from laughing.  Squirt says, "They are so handsome and beautiful too and their skin is so precious!  It's not kind to be mean to them."  I literally squeezed her face and released her of all the treacherous behavior she had displayed throughout the day.  Redemption was felt. Perhaps we're not completely failing at this parenting game after all.

I'm feeling a lot of "heavy" these days.  Obviously our kids are too.  We're hoping for a lightweight February. But if it's gonna be deep and weighty, I'm oh so grateful that sparks of Jesus are in the midst of it all.