A big sink. Running water. Dishwashing soap.
Three of the best ingredients for hours of kid fun and mess.
At two, Cal has become the roaming scavenger whenever he enters our home–accessible food, toys he can push, throw, or kick, and bubbles. Treasures that bring grins.
I store a large container of dish soap in our laundry room. Right at his eye level. If I forget to close the door, he makes a beeline for that bottle and squeals, “Bubbles!” as if Christmas has returned.
Having been this route with my kids, I know the drill. Pull the chair close to the sink, plug it well so little fingers can’t keep letting water out, fill it slowly with water, and squirt a generous amount of soap under the flow. Throw in some plastic glasses, a large bowl, measuring cups, and big serving spoons, and let the fun begin.
In a four-hour period, Cal was up and down on the chair, soaking himself and everything around him with water and bubbles. He’d laugh as he poured bubbly water from measuring cups on the floor as I tried to grab it before he could empty it. We both slipped and slid everywhere, and laughter bubbled as much as the soap.
Isley and Ryken, at nine and five, were immersed in devices. Playing games, watching videos that they could connect to more quickly on my phone than I could ever hope to do. They were beyond the water and bubble playtime.
Until the bubbles called to them.
When Cal was significantly soaked and getting increasingly tired, Isley and Ryken mounted the chair, side by side, and began playing in the bubbles. Their level of creativity was higher than Cal’s–both made tornadoes with the serving spoons, swirling water and bubbles into funnel shapes. They applied bubble beards to their faces, crafting facial hair replicas.
The two of them were chattering up a storm, laughing and working together or splashing each other.
Some things never grow old.
There have been times when I feel like I have it all together and don’t need to include God in my action plan. As if I’m beyond my need of Him. I have a skill set I’ve been refining for years; I see the issue and perceive I have it under control.
I’ve got this.
Until I don’t.
When I was younger, I never thought I struggled with pride. I saw myself as a rather humble person. Self-aware enough to know my limitations.
The older I’ve gotten, the more I see the cocky confidence in my attitude. A good friend of mine describes it as smugness.
I am capable. I’ve got people skills that I use daily in my job, and I’m quite effective at connecting with others.
I can tell the difference when I’m doing it on my own. What I say doesn’t ring as true. How I coach isn’t as effective.
Spending time with God, praying about what I’m doing, brings me to a place where I see my limits and His limitlessness. He takes the talents He’s given me and allows them to reflect His immense character rather than my smallness.
Tapping into His perfect wisdom and understanding or relying on what little I know?
Is it even a discussion?
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