Lift The Flap

Confession:  My children and I frequently have weird conversations in our pew at church.

Lilly:  "Mom, my Barbies are naked!  Their boobs are showing!"

Me:  "No, you can't throw your Matchbox cars at people in front of us, Cam!"

Cam:  "I smell poop.  Who tooted?"

And on and on and on...

Several weeks ago, Lilly and I had an interesting conversation about the romantic dynamics of a marital relationship.  Or something like that.  And yep, it took place in a church pew.  Thanks to Sue Fliess and Betsy Snyder's book, "Tons of Trucks."

This lift-the-flap book is charming and fun; a church bag must-have!  It's a favorite of ours, and a real reverence inducer.  (Usually.)

The book introduces children to all kinds of trucks:  dump trucks, tow trucks, moving trucks, etc.  All the trucks are busy and active throughout the day, teaching children about their various tasks and functions.  By the end of the book, the trucks start to slow down and get sleepy.  The last page of the book shows them settling down for the night beneath the light of a full moon.  The red arrow is pointing to the specific truck that caught my daughter's attention:

Lift the flap and viola...

Two sweet little horses, "caught in a moment."  (Yes, those are hearts above their heads.)

"Mom," Lilly whispered, after a hymn had been sung, "what are those horses doing?"

"Hmm," I said, when in reality the first word that came to mind was...ahem... foreplay!  "It looks like they're sleeping."

"Well, I think they are hugging and kissing and snuggling because they are trying to KEEP THEIR LOVE ALIVE," said Lilly.

I half-choked and half-snorted as I attempted to stifle my giggle!  Before I had the chance to shush her she asked, "Do you do that?  Do you and dad try to keep your love alive?"

I looked to the opposite end of our pew.  I watched as Camren drove his Matchbox cars up and down James' long leg.  I watched as James wrestled a very wiggly Bridget, who was attempting to eat his tie.  He hadn't had time to shave that morning and he looked a little tired and only slightly frazzled.  He was utterly adorable.

And he was there.

There in my pew, there in my home, there in my bed, there in my life, there in my heart.  He was the one who was present for doctor's appointments and IEP meetings.  The one who showed up for school programs and speaking engagements.  The one who read stories to Camren before bedtime.  The one who called Bridget, "Sweetheart."  The one who helped Lilly with Math.  The one who reached for me when the sky was dark and the house was still.  The one who was committed to being there.  For a lifetime.  For always.

I looked down at Lilly and saw some of the very best parts of James mirrored in her--chocolate-brown eyes, inquisitive mind, patient nature, dark-as-coal eyelashes.  I smiled brightly and whispered my answer into her ear:


It was time for the closing prayer.



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