Today my 8yo daughter came running to inform me that there was a spider in the entryway. She and I agree that spiders are icky, and the boys (either dh or the twins) take care of them.
I concentrate on keeping from squeaking, because, really, a grown woman should be past all that silliness. Nevermind the fact that spiders just completely squig me out--I'm trying not to pass that on to my kids.
So the big boys were busy doing something--building robots or lego towers or some such important thing. Dh was at work. The spider was at the other end of the house, and I told my daughter to just keep away from it, and we'd get one of her brothers to deal with it in a while.
And then my 4yo son proudly informed me that he had killed the spider. Or, more precisely, Buzz Lightyear had squished the spider with his foot. And my heart exploded just a little with love for my sweet boy, who used complete sentences and words I'd never before heard him attempt.
Our 4yo son is significantly delayed in his speech. He doesn't meet the asinine requirements our insurance company has in place for qualifying for speech therapy, and our local school district can only offer placing him in a special-ed preschool, which we have declined. Dh and I work with him ourselves, and we've seen significant improvement.
But I worry. Sometimes I think that's just a part of being a mother, that I worry about my children, the challenges ahead of them.
Most of the time I remember that, as a believer, I am to put my trust in the Lord no matter what cares or burdens I am carrying. I remember, but I can't always quite do it.
My 4yo son is now able to say the word "squished." What's more, he is the brave defender of his big sister and his mama.
His future is looking brighter and brighter.
*I'll post a picture when I can. Our camera port is having technical difficulties.