. . . I hear her say, and her little bare feet patter over the floor with a distinctive ‘slap-slap’. I turn from my work at the kitchen counter in time to see her reach up and slide a towel from its place on the oven door handle. Away she goes again, slap-slapping back to the living room, towel in hand, clearly on a mission. Her little plastic bowl of apple slices is on the floor beside the coffee table, and then I see the problem. There are a few little water droplets glittering on the surface of the coffee table. They do not last long. Sierra is bending over the table, scrubbing the towel back and forth, looking for all the world like a little Dutch Oma. When she is finished, she flings the hapless tea towel down on the floor, picks up her plastic bowl, and patters back to the kitchen, where I am leaning against the counter, watching her in amusement and eating apple slices of my own. She examines my posture at a glance, then settles her back against the kitchen cupboards beside me, clasps the plastic bowl with one hand against her round belly, and begins to eat as nonchalontly as if she had lived all her life as an adult.
All I can think (around my inner laughter) is: since when has she been this mature?
Every day is a new adventure. There was a point today, after I had been cleaning up mess after mess, where I realized that I was just working in the wake of her trail and was actually cleaning up the same messes all over again! There were also more discipline issues than ever before, which of course she is a pro at avoiding by putting on her most charming smile and most adorable antics . . . There was a time when there was barley all over the floor and a worse time when there was a puddle of olive oil. Sierra’s favorite choices of Daddy’s commentaries were found on the floor several times, The first Volume on John being the oftenest abused. But now I am being a tattletale and shall decline to tell the rest of the stories. Suffice it to say that between my two children, I was quite tired before the day had fully come to a close. So my two children and I laid on the couch while one wrecked a few magazines and climbed all over the couch (and mommy), and the other kicked my belly button (from the inside) so often that said button never stopped doing odd little waves and dances.
Life is full. My heart is fuller, and God is the fullness of all things. He is so good.