You Can’t Fool Your Kids

When Big Brother was a little tyke he was quite the talker. Actually, he still is. And we didn’t call him Big Brother then because there was no Little Guy yet, but to avoid confusion that’s what we’ll call him.

Big Brother talked lots, and knew lots. He knew his alphabet before he turned two because he liked to sit on the potty and go through the alphabet (somehow he still wasn’t potty trained early). He had a squeaky, little-guy voice that just made you want to laugh and he talked in full sentences. This, of course, was entertaining for people everywhere. He would get asked all the time, “Brother, what does the cow say?” “What does the chicken say?” “What does the (insert any animal) say?”

This never got old for the askers, but we got tired of hearing it constantly and Big Brother got a little tired of answering simple questions when he knew the name of every construction vehicle and most dinosaurs too. So we tried to teach him to say, “I’m not some conjurer of cheap tricks!” (Gandalf)

Tim and I would chuckle as we imagined him saying this to the little old ladies asking him how old he was. The only problem was, he wouldn’t say it. (He’s a stubborn one, he is.) We would try to trick him by asking, “Are you a conjurer of cheap tricks, Big Brother?” He would ignore us but we would say it again, “You are a conjurer of cheap tricks, aren’t you?”

IMG_5831.JPG crop

I’m nooooooooooot!

Finally, he would get frustrated and shout, “No, I’m NOT a conjurer of cheap tricks, I’m not!”

And we would laugh and laugh as he glared at us trying to figure out what was so funny. And we never did get him to say it to anyone.

My point is, we can’t trick our kids. We might think we can try (my boys think there is such a thing as “Mommy Treats.” It’s candy that’s only for mommies and not kids), but eventually they will always find us out.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t trick my kids into thinking I’m perfect. Even if they were to believe it for awhile they would only be crushed when I mess up. And trust me, I will mess up.

So. I’m not gonna try. My only goal for how my children view me is for them to see an imperfect woman who is desperate for the grace of Jesus. I fail again and again and again. And I apologize to them again and again and again. And they forgive me. Every time. And I’m amazed at their love for me. Every time. They know their Mama needs their forgiveness and God’s forgiveness. And that is the best thing I can teach them.


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