The Four Year Old Adult

In the dawn of December, the holiday season descends upon us all. It wraps us in a sparkling string of festive fetes, sugary sweet confections and merry motion that would leave even Good King Wenceslas plumb tuckered out.

Come early January, we're about all we can be. 

(Even the ones among us who are best equipped with energy to meet such a season of frenzy.)

In times of sheer weariness, it is a gift indeed to have nearby a willing soul to lend a hand. One to come alongside and offer help when we ourselves are helpless. For instance: In today's world of ever increasing want, it would be sad, nay, downright cavalier to let good food go to waste. Thus, should you find yourself beside the weary one, consider this: Ask not what your sister can do for you, but what you can do for you sister. Then put your fork to the plate and praise the Lord.

In every family, there holds the potential to have one who is quietly (or not) superior to all others in terms of adherance to the 'rules' and his/her ability to posses wisdom far beyond his/her years. Using this "wisdom" and age-defying maturity to report to the Captain and Co-Captain comes in handy, for it often takes the Superiors off guard with it's emotional and mature appeal. It's not so primitive as "He won't share!" or "She took my Woody from me!". That is child's talk, to this type of adult-in-child-form's way of thinking.

Rather, an individual such as we are privilaged to have residing in our ranks (following photo, first person on the left, age four), will use a reasonable, Hallmark-esque approach in reporting a reproach:

"Dad. Mom."

"Yes, dear"

"As you know, the spirit of this season is about joy and sharing. It makes me so sad because Buddy (her older brother) has not learned this yet. He will not share his Christmas toys with me, no matter how kindly I ask him!"

"Oh. Ok. Well, just pray for the lad, then and find something else to play with." (????)

 

 Thank the good Lord this same upstanding citizen was present at the breakfast table on Sunday morning when we were attempting (due to questioning) the Holy Trinity over colorful plastic bowls of milk-drenched Honey Grahams.

Mid parental discourse (which was apparently inadequate), she confidently interjected. Addressing her siblings she made it all very clear:

"Don't you know? Just listen to me. 'God' is Jesus's real name."

And now we know, that even God had a nickname. Jesus, apparently, fell off the tongue much easier.

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 We have fully entered the season of blooming personalities and comments that render us speechless and grappling to conceal our surprised laughter.

Things are getting interesting, folks...and (for the most part) we are loving it (except when I find myself banging my head against the wall in time to the Barney theme song)! We just hope we don't use up all of our sharp brain cells by the time they approach their teens.