Save the Laughter for After

I love that my children are their own unique persons. I love the way they look at the world.  I love the way they make connections and observations about people and ideas. But sometimes...well, many times....I tend to open mouth, insert my fist or my foot or whatever large piece of furniture is in reach, and am humbled greatly by their tender words.

For Brian's birthday every year, we typically go out to dinner or engage in a family activity that he would choose to do.  Bowling, pizza at Dewey's, steak and Rocky Road ice cream at home. This year we went to Fitz's for root beer floats.

As we perused the menu, Max piped up, "Mom, I'll have a quadzilla, please."

Ahh...too cute.  I laughed.  Out loud.  It sort of escaped the filter I try so desperately to employ.

Max, confused by my response, immediately said,  "Mom! Why are you laughing?  All I said was, I would like a quadzilla, please."

Trying sooo hard not to keep laughing, I replied, "Honey, it's actually called a quesadilla."  That's when I knew I had inserted the entire root beer making machine.  He dropped his head in embarrassment and went immediately quiet. Now my laughing had quickly turned to tears, and I tried my best to comfort him with lots of love and asks for forgiveness.  It didn't take long for him to smile again, but he leaned his little face close to mind and gently said, "Mom, next time, just tell me quietly and save the laughter for after."

Save the laughter for after.  With both joy and humility, I shall remember that phrase for a long time. Thanks, buddy. I love you.

Comments

christan perona said…
Bless him.
5:35 AM
Jane Stein said…
Susan- I always love your honesty about life! You are truly a beautiful woman of God.

I started writing a blog a few weeks ago. It is The Graceful Race.

your friend, Jane
2:35 PM
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