Kids are Kids

“Oh little girl, so innocent / Don’t leave that love behind / You sing your abc’s / And I think you count just fine / Jordan Michelle / Always stick to what you know / Take our love and let it grow / And leave the world behind / And everything will be alright… / She holds your hand when / We walk down the street / And she sings songs about elmo / And then I know how precious / She must be in your sight” (“Jordi” by Fanmail).

“Cuz this is the way we make the pancakes, make the pancakes, make the pancakes. This is the way we make the pancakes, early in the morning.” The creative cover of the old children’s song echoed through the house, and I rolled over, trying to ignore it. It was way too early for this to start up again. Don’t those kids ever quit? I suppose I answered my own question–they’re kids.

Groggily, I tossed the blanket aside, rubbed the sleep from my eyes and ventured to the kitchen to see what the commotion was all about. Dad and his two boys were making pancakes–and singing about the experience in a desperate attempt to keep the boys entertained.

Children. I don’t understand how some people do it. A four-year old, a two-year old, and a two-week old–and somehow the parents manage to juggle it all and still keep their sanity. Kids who need constant attention, constant patience-and the parent’s need to be all knowing–as all parents are.

There’s something about kids that boggles my mind. They seem so care free and innocent, yet they’re conniving. I watched a little girl in K-Mart last night dancing around and singing while her parents waited in line. She didn’t have a care in the world, didn’t seem to notice that she looked really funny, and didn’t seem to mind that she was becoming a slightly annoying customer. I couldn’t help but exchange smiles with her young mother, who merely shook her head and commented, “Well, at least she’s entertaining herself.” Two minutes later she announced to her mother that she wanted a Teletubby, despite the fact they already spent half an hour in the toy section picking out a toy. Mom said no, and I watched as the little girl’s gears turned and she resorted to her best methods for getting her way. She scrunched up her little face and squeezed out some tears, managing a pathetic sob and sniffle. The mom just sighed and repeated her no, and dad got impatient and took her out to the car. As dad led her out the door, you could tell that the tears were no where to be found, and a smile was just around the corner.

Innocent, huh? It also amazes me how easily entertained kids are. Give them two minutes of your time, and you’re their new best friend. I knelt down to play matchbox cars with a four year old, and the rest of the night he asked me when I was going to come play again and repeated told me that I was his best friend. Deep with in that simple, child-like love, I see so much more. Why do you think God is called ‘Father?’

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Luke 18:16-17 NIV

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