Out of the mouth of
babes eight year olds. Today we had Elizabeth’s birthday and she got to invite 3 friends to play for the afternoon. Of course cake and ice cream was involved, as were gifts and supper out.
Mr. Full Cup has always been one of those Daddy’s who want to be a part of their children’s lives. He attends all of their birthday parties, and I’m anal about celebrating on the day, so that takes some creative timing because we have other traditions involving birthdays.
Four girls, all of which are 8, can be very loud. I had to chuckle from my spot in the living room, I was overhearing, eavesdropping if you will, on the conversations in Elizabeth’s bedroom. I heard such things as, “Elizabeth has an announcement.” I also heard “Be quiet” being fairly shouted from the rafters.
But the one that really made me laugh. The girls were in the kitchen planning a dance show for Ariana and I. (Mr. Full Cup needed to finish something at the office so he left early.) We were hearing “I have an idea” over and over. I think by different girls, but when they are all 8, the kind of sound the same.
“We have to take turns having an idea!”
And I guffawed loudly. None of the 8 year olds heard me, because they are louder than herd of elephants.
I was starting to rethink my idea of taking them all out for supper with us, if they’re this loud in the house, how will we survive in the van?
I phoned Mr. Full Cup from the road and told him he had 2 minutes MAX until we were there and he needed to hop in the van as soon as it was stopped. As it would figure, he waited outside the back door, while we waited at the front door.
He has a lot of things to do this evening and really this whole week for him is jam-packed getting ready for vacation. I offered to take all the girls home if he wanted to come home alone and get started on
Monday Night Football all the important things he needed to do. He readily agreed, (traitor) and decided he would take Ariana with him.
I needed to stop at the pharmacy to pick up a couple of prescriptions for the birthday girl. As we were leaving and I was losing all faith in humanity because of 4 eight year olds, I heard this conversation from the back seat.
“Girls, would you pray for my owie to stop hurting.”
“Of course. We’ll pray right now.”
“And we need to pray for my grandpa because a tree fell on him.”
“And we’ll pray for Elizabeth’s throat.”
“And we’ll pray for K’s…..”
They did. They prayed right then and there in the back seat of my van. Four little hearts desiring to serve Jesus above all, prayed for each other.
And my hope for the next generation was a little bit restored.
(Elizabeth just informed me she thinks I’m the best Mommy in the world, because “you’re not really girly, but your not a tom boy either. Some days you like to watch movies and sometimes you like to watch football. And sometimes you really make people think about your clothes.” I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. )