It’s a sweet vignette-one of those touching Super Bowl commercial moments that brings a tear to the eye.
Daddy is trying to help baby Kolby eat her mac and cheese with a spoon and he is pulling out of his hat all the good tricks.
He is doing the locomotive move, “Choo, choo…here comes the train.”
Then the buzzing bee, disguised as a spoon move, “Buzz, buzz (spoon darts around baby’s face until she opens her mouth), here comes the bee.”
But baby is having none of it. She screams in a howl of fury and tightens up her little pink bow mouth.
“I do it,” baby shrieks like a pterodactyl.
Daddy cajoles, “I have been eating a lot longer than you have and I can help.”
Baby stares him down defiantly. It’s the scary toddler stare- “Blue Steel” in diapers.
Daddy walks away defeated.
Baby picks up the spoon and giggles, and then throws some macaroni over her head like a crazed baby high on power and processed cheese.
Then he gives me the look. The parenthood is so freaking hard look. And I laugh and laugh and laugh some more.
Final Score: Baby Kolby -1, Daddy-0
I laugh because I can relate all too well. But mostly I laugh because it’s a picture of how I am with God, a maniacal baby hopped up on mac and cheese battling a loving father who is trying to guide me into all truth.
Every single day I fight between surrender and selfishness. Between “I do it!” and “Lord, you are in control.”
I think God shows me these vivid pictures of faith to highlight my own silly/stubborn streak and to illustrate His unending and radical love for me.
My son asked me the other day how I hear from God.
“Well Kyle, ” I said with a smile and a knowing laugh, “sometimes I hear His voice in cheesy noodles. You just have to listen.”
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