Let's Pray

Anyone who's raised, spent time with, heck... even passed a toddler in the grocery store can attest to one simple fact. Toddlers are miniature versions of insane people. The array of things that can set them off are both shocking and kind of impressive. He wants to hear the Milestone Electric jingle again on TV, his chicken nuggets (let's be real, they're soy nuggets to give me some sense of being a "healthy" mom) aren't cut horizontally, the wind has blown in a slightly different direction. With all the ways you or the world can wrong a toddler during the day, it might be even more frustrating when something truly predictable makes them blow. And you didn't even see it coming! You were too busy making sure that beloved stick that he picked up on the way out to the car made it INTO the car so that he's not screaming FOR the stick during the two-minute drive to the bank. Insanity, I tell you.

Last week I took Barrett to an indoor playground at a local church. The weather was cruddy outside and knowing how much he loved that place, thought I'd enjoy hearing a little "tank tou, mama" while watching him play. The thing that I love (and fear) about my guy is how truly focused he can become on that one thing he's obsessed with. Currently it's cars. Cars make his happy little world and this particular playground has an area full of toy cars. Winner winner chicken dinner. Barrett will bypass the bouncy house, the giant play scape, the rock-climbing wall, all in pursuit of those "car cars". And as far as I'm concerned, I'm totally ok with plopping my butt down in the car section and perusing Pinterest for desserts I should NEVER make while Barrett spends the entire morning in one 5x5 foot area.

Life is good. Until I totally underestimate my sweet little psycho. While I was watching for bullies or car-stealers to set Barrett off, it never crossed my mind that he'd be less than thrilled about leaving. I went to college. I have a degree. I've even worked with children. How did I not see the epic melt-down coming? It seemed natural to me that with lunch-time coming, he'd be ready to get home to some soy nuggets and a (hopefully) lengthy nap. Idiot. There was screaming, flailing of limbs, one of which seemed oddly close to my face. I even had the joy of being called "cruel" by another little boy who watched me struggle to gather my belongings while Barrett sounded the "code red" alarm.

My moment of clarity...or desperation...came after wrangling my nutcase into his car seat and quickly jumping into the car myself. I'd offered some crackers and had them batted to the floor. Before I knew what was coming out of my mouth, I loudly commanded, "let's pray". Immediately the screaming stopped, and my man clasped his hands together in the most solemn of expressions. "Dear Jesus, please help Barrett to calm down and to be kind to his mama. Amen." I opened my eyes as Barrett repeated "Amen" and politely requested the crackers. And some water. And "song" on the radio. Happy to oblige!

Maybe God makes toddlers with such a wide-swinging emotional pendulum to keep us mamas not so much on our toes but on our knees. I, for one, find myself there every day.