My 3 Year Old's View on Jesus, Bathtime, and Fatherhood

Last Sunday, we attended the christening of our friends' baby boy. Noah fits into a peaceful chapel about as easily as a bull into a china shop, so we wisely took our seats on the far end of the church.

Evidently, not far enough.

"MOMMY! MOMMY! What is Jesus doing to baby Darragh?"
"Shhh... Noah. That's not Jesus, that's Father. He's baptising Darragh."
"MOMMY! Is Jesus giving Darragh a bath? I WANT A BATH! Yoo hoo..  Jesus? Bath time for Noah?"

Giggles in the pews, and a few seconds of silence....

Next came the candle lighting ceremony.
"What's uncle Connor doing?"
"All the fathers are lighting a candle for their babies. Now shhh!"
"Oh, look, he's lighting it! Oh mommy, he DID IT! Yay CONNOR!"

More silence. For three glorious seconds.
"But Mommy, you said Jesus is Darragh's father."
I smacked myself in the forehead and said nothing.
"Hey Mommy, is it bath time yet? I fink it's my turn."

The next time I feel confused about family roles (my child has HOW MANY MOTHERS?) I will remember our friend's baptism and comfort myself with the fact that my son is more concerned about getting in on bathtime then he is with determining relationships between everyone involved. 

And for us leading non-traditional families, with members even we can't assign a role to, just be thankful that you have this complicated cacophany of loved ones in your life.... even if you don't get the bath you were hoping for. And if the star of the show turns out NOT to be Jesus after all.  

I Don't Want a Sister - I Want a Dinosaur!!!

Every once in a while, we test the water with Noah and ask him point blank: "So, would you like a brother or sister?"

Sometimes he answers yes, other times no, but most recently, he's vehemently proclaimed: "I don't want a sister - I want a DINOSAUR!!!"

He then proceeds to stomp around the house roaring like his ancient extinct idol, smashing fallen cheerios and threatening breakables in his wake.

"Don't you think it would be fun?"

"No sister! I. Want. A. Dinosaur!"

"But Noah, you can't go to the park with a dinosaur. He might eat you up!"

"Mommy. You are so ridiculous. He won't eat me up. I'm not delicious!"

So... he's three now. Diametrically opposed to acquiring a sibling. Inexplicably enchanted with carnivourous prehistoric creatures.

Oh well. Last month he wanted a puppy. Which could be easily enough acquired... at least I have no qualms or quasi-guilt for saying "Sorry, son, but you are NOT getting a dinosaur for a sibling."

Knee Pads, Helmet, and Ice Skates, Oh My!

"Mooooooooommy! Fix my rice cakes!" (Not the usual request at the hockey rink!)

"You mean your ice skates?" "YES mommy! Fix my rice cakes!"

Noah's learning to skate. His aunt is a skating coach and has offered to help Noah find his stride.

I'm less than talented on the ice; I don't drive in the snow, I don't ski, I don't snowboard, and Lord help me if I get up the nerve (and the insanity) to set foot into bladed skate and step out onto the ice.

"Mommy, are you gonna skate with me!?"

"Maybe when you get REALLY good and can hold me up, okay Noah?"

He collapses into giggles.

"Mommy, you are too big! I can't protect you!"

Gee, thanks honey. Now... when your aunty is done parading you around the hockey rink, get back onto solid ground and I'll hold you while you'd little enough to let me.

I wish your whole life could be as simple as learning to skate. Put a few bumper pads on your knees and elbows, strap a helmet to your noggin, and send you out with a trusted adult to spread your wings and learn to fly (err.. glide, at least) while Mom cheers you on from the sidelines.

"Enjoy these years!" a mom called out to me when we were leaving. Noah was having a routine tantrum and I had to forcibly carry him out - legs kicking, mouth frothing, hands slapping.

I knew exactly what she meant. Along with the bumps, bruises, and toddler-sized rages, come the hugs, kisses, and unexpected praises.

Grow slow, little man. Some day you'll be big enough to teach me how to skate. In the meantime, I'm enjoying every day with you and your wonderful, spirited little self.  

I Wish My Brother Could Live with Me.

Noah and I were kicking the ball around the other day. We were talking about sports and how proud I was that he'd become such a great soccer player. 

"Just like my brother, right mommy!?" "Yes, that's right, Noah!"

"Oh mommy, I wish my brother could come live with me. Then we could play soccer together. Mommy, if I ask Santa, do you think he will bring me my brother?"


I stopped kicking the soccer ball. 


I knew these questions would come. I knew he would recognize the injustice that his brothers couldn't live with him. I just didn't think he's be so young, or so matter-of-fact in his questioning.

"Well, sweetie, your brother has his own family. They would miss each other if he came to live with us."

"Oh, well can I go see him? Can we go to the beach and eat candy and swim in the cold ocean?"

Oh Noah. Yes, my dear. I will take you to the beach and we'll invite your brother. And I'll bring some tooth-rotting candy. "Yes, but you'll have to wait until summer time for swimming."

Noah smiled at me. "How about a candy tonight? Please?"

"Of course!"

"Can I have two? One for me and one for my brother?"

"Of course!" He ended up with a handful of skittles and an devilishly sugared-up grin. I can't bring your brother home, son, but I can give you hyperglycemia if it makes the circumstances easier to swallow.