The M&M Story

A Pageant Originally uploaded by smaynor The cousins journeyed to Bethlehem and watched their sheep by night.

M and B Originally uploaded by smaynor A shepherd and Joseph.

During bedtime routine: B: Hey, Max, remember when we played poop on each other? My interject: What game is that, Briggs? (Yes, I was biting the inside of my cheeks) B: Well, me and Max and Kharis and Clayton play poop on each other. Sometimes we toot or burp, too. Me: Where do you play this? B: At the football (WCA) game. Max: Yes, I made it up. I guess this is only the beginning. Boys and their bodily functions.

We ended up back in the ER yesterday because M fell and hit his chin right on his healing scar. It opened a little bit, but enough that when I called the doctor's exchange (of course it was on a Sunday), she advised going to the ER. No new stitches, but a little glue, a popsicle, and several games of Connect 4. I think padded suits and helmets will be under the tree this year.

1. A one-piece-of-pumpkin-pie conviction to remind me that my body is a temple. 2. A new grease spot on the kitchen floor to remind me that this world shall pass away. 3. A crisis right before Thanksgiving dinner to remind me who is in control. 4. Smiles, kisses, and snuggles to remind me who gives good gifts. 5. Helpful friends who show up just in time to remind me that He never leaves us nor forsakes us. 6. Stories of redemption throughout history to remind me who is our true Hero. And the list goes on.

Holidays have never been easy for me. Plenty of drama. Too many spinning plates. And I'm not a good juggler. So it is always a relief when real crisis hits. As the turkey aroma tugged at our taste buds and organization of side dishes ensued, my oldest took a dive into a pool of hardwood. Not really the right metaphor, it was actually more like a slip and crash and "I didn't catch myself, Mommy." There were tears followed by bandaids and wait time and then "Yes, we need to go to the ER." As my friends arrived, I hugged and said, "the kitchen is yours," and M and I headed to Missouri Baptist. Several stitches later (on the chin), along with a popsicle, a movie, and many phone calls home (regarding turkey instructions), we sat down to Thanksgiving dinner. P.S. M proved to be his father's son. He was brave and strong during the entire ordeal. And the turkey turned out just right.

He's back in M's bed. The separation lasted all of three nights.