The Camel Part

The kids are looking forward to a trip to the zoo this evening. And as every parent knows, no trip to the Lincoln Children's Zoo is complete without a train ride.

One problem. Well two. Maybe four.

The train passes the camels. Two different pens. With two camels each equals four camels total.

As we've previously established, Mary Elizabeth has a sensitive nose. Camels stink. That's what she thinks.

Join the conversation this morning...

ME: I don't want to take a train ride today.
Daddy: You love the train ride.
ME: But I don't want to smell the camels.
Daddy: You like all rest of the train ride, right?
ME: I just don't like the camel part.
Daddy: Here's an idea, Mary. We ride the train & have fun. We just hold our noses on the camel part. How's that?
ME: Okay!

Problem solved.

Lord, remind me of this truth the next time my adult life stinks: Enjoy the ride. Just hold your nose on the camel part. It'll pass.

LB

LB. That's John Mark.

His Mama couldn't tolerate Jimmy. It was great. Elvis-voiced, "I'm Jimmy. J-I-M-M-Y. Jimmy. King of the Babies. And I'm cool, man. Cool." Seth roled over laughing each time. Like her Mama, Mary Elizabeth didn't see what was so funny.

So, now it's LB. Was Little Britches. It's now Linebacker. You see, if your baby spills his milk & cries, he'll be a quarterback. If he spills it & throws something, he'll be a linebacker. That's John Mark. Not a mean kid. Just expresses himself physically. Even his affection is pounding or dog-piling. Rough as a corncob

Last week: He put a beautiful form tackle on his sister. (Yes, it was his physical style hug, but Daddy saw a tackle. Okay?!) Ran right into her. On his knees. He was low. He took her down, Baby! BAM! She's flat on her back windless with a "what just happened & should I cry?" look in her eyes. I come fired up. Pull them out of the pile like a coach. Slap him on the fanny, "Good job, John Mark! Wasn't that great, Mary?" Mary Elizabeth wasn't so sure.

Last night: Kids are bathed & sweet-smellin'. I'm reading to Mary Elizabeth on the floor. LB moves in. On his feet. Moving faster than they can go. He plows into me. Head to head. BAM. He cries. I wince. Blood flows. A gashed nose. I exclaim, "Wow, Mary, look at that, John Mark hit me so hard he made me bleed! Cool." Again, Mary Elizabeth just doesn't get it. She's a girl.

LB. Rough as a corncob. That's my boy!

You Stink!

My dear Mary Elizabeth has a sensitive nose.

I come in from my morning run. Satisfied, but sweaty. From the couch. Before I see her. I hear, "Daddy, you stink!"

When our eyes meet. I see the smile in hers. I can't see the rest of her face. She's covering her nose with her heart-patterned pink snugly blanket. There is a playful, Daddy's-heart-melting smile in those big brown eyes.

I stink.

Yet she loves me.

And it appears that she enjoys loving me. Even when I stink.

Thank God for little girls! Thank God for my little girl, ME.

ME loves me. ME reminds me that God loves me the same way. But unimaginably more.

Even when I stink.