Hallelujah, He Forgot the F-Word!

So my son renewed my faith, quite serendipitously, yesterday. He was riding in the back seat of my car with our cousin, Hope. Miles is 2 and Hope just turned 5. She was teaching him "dirty words" back there (such a time-honored childhood tradition... once I figured out what was happening, I wavered between freaking out and completely ignoring them). They were giggling mightily at every new exclamation from the forbotten roll call.

"Tootie," she whispered.
Tee-hee-hee, he replied.
"Poopie!" she said, a little louder.
Hehehe. Eeee! Eeee! (Squeal, squeal.)
"Doodie... Doodie head!"
AHH-ha-ha... (Outright guffaws.)
"Now you do one, Miles."
Eek! I frowned and caught my breath. Tightened my shoulders. Winced and braced....

"Pull-ups!" came the triumphant reply. (Quick note for those without exposure to little children: A "pull up" is a toddler diaper. It has solid sides instead of diaper tabs, so it pulls up like underwear.) The tone of the voice said, "Yeah! I know how to play this game!"

Oh, the relief in my next exhale!

Flash back to a low, low day in the mothering annals, just a few months past: I found M. struggling to reconnect the yellow plastic "dump" to his take-apart dump truck. Some part must have stuck, and it wasn't going well. Frustration mounted...
"Um, um... FUFF!" he said. Then he seemed to realize that wasn't quite the word...
"Fluff!"
He kept trying.
"Fruck!"

I can't even clearly remember the circumstances of the moment when the F-word left my lips, but obviosuly it had. And obviosuly, he heard.

God bless the memory squeeze that drained some weight off that word in the sponge of his brain. I had been feeling SO low over that one! I was just waiting for the word to come out, perfectly formed, in the back seat of the mommie wagon with a 5-year-old witness in tow.

The game continued, still Miles' turn...
"Powder!" (I am not making this up. He really said that next.) Then... "Wipies! DIRTY wipies!"

And suddenly I was laughing out loud, so long and so hard I could not stop the flow of glee. For all the wordly smears that threaten his little life, for all the tarnishes and stains I bring to the mix, my son is still a shining wonder. A child of God, full of innocence and incomplete knowledge, a willingness to play and a readiness to please.

Yeah for toddlers! Hallelujah for Miles!

Dear God: Thank you for this boy of mine, this child of yours. Please help me deliver him back to you, a man who will stand in good stead, and stand up for faith. Amen.