That Wasn't Very Smart, Was It?

I hope you don't mind another kid story from the past. My oldest son was probably around five years old at the time and had his bedroom on the second floor of our home. He was a good kid with an infectious grin that quite often covered a multitude of sins. This particular night the grin didn't work too well.

I has home alone with the three kids which included an infant. My husband was bowling in a church league; and I was looking forward to a quiet evening at home. The two youngest children were already sound asleep when I tucked the oldest into bed, kissed him goodnight, headed down stairs, and turned off the light. As I closed the door at the bottom of the stairs, I sighed a big sigh and headed for the rocking chair and my book. Aaah, peace and quiet at last.

I no sooner opened my book than I heard, "Thump, thump, thump." What in the world? After a few minutes of intermittent noise I realized the sound was coming from behind the door to my son's room. I got up, walked to the door, and opened it. There he sat at the bottom of the stairs, kicking the door. I gave him one of those looks only an irritated mother can give. In response, he gave me a huge grin. I smiled back, set him on his feet, and up the stairs we marched. I tucked him back into bed, gave him another kiss, told him goodnight and went back down stairs. Just before closing the door I said, "I don't want you coming down again, young man!"

I had barely finished reading a page of my book when I heard it again, "Thump, thump, thump." I figured I would just ignore him. He would tire of his little game fairly soon, or so I thought. Wrong. He would stop for awhile, then start again.

Not wanting to get up, I used my mamma's-not-happy-right-now voice and said, "Young man, get yourself back upstairs and into bed right this minute. Do you hear me?" The thumping stopped, but I didn't hear any footsteps on the stairs. Then, within minutes I hears a very quiet, thump, thump. That did it. I hightailed it into the kitchen, grabbed my one and only wooden spoon, and marched to the stairway door. After standing there a second or two to rehearse my plan of attack, I threw open the door, took one look at my son, then brought the spoon down as hard as I could on the stairs right next to him.

 Bam!

I had not expected the spoon to snap in two, but it did. I also had not expected my son's reaction. He smiled sweetly at me and said in his little angelic voice, "That wasn't very smart, was it?" I still was in shock over breaking my one-and-only wooden spoon, so was unprepared to respond to his smarty comment. Before I could find the right words to say, these words came out of his mouth, "The devil likes it when you get angry!"

I stood there dumbfounded and holding a spoon handle in my right hand. How do I deal with this? My son was right after all. Thankfully the Lord was right there giving me the words, although I didn't fully realize it at the time. I looked right into the eyes of my son, ignored his heartwarming smile, and gently responded, "The devil also like it when you disobey your mother."

What ensued was our conversation about children who disobey their parents, parents who lose their tempers, and what behaviors please God. We both said " I'm sorry" and "forgive me" before I tucked him into bed again, kissed him again, and headed down the stairs--again. As I closed the I said, "Love you."

The rest of the evening I read my book in peace and quiet. All three of my children were finally asleep.

This experience has come to mind over and over again during the past forty years, not as a memory of a disobedient child and his angry mother, but as a reminder of how God can use the words of a child to touch a mother's heart.

Jan