(begin haunting, scary tunes...)
Terrible cries from the kitchen revealed a five-year-old who stepped on - and then in - the bucket of honey trying to get a snack in the pantry. The mother went running, assuming the worst, only to find the young boy stuck in the bucket like "Winnie the Pooh". She lifted him carefully from the pail as great blobs of honey dripped from his heels, and carried him to the sink.
His cries were loud and piercing.
While the honey was being washed from his tan little legs, she was secretly thankful he was not wearing socks, and then wondered how clean his feet really were and if the honey should be spared - only to quickly rewind that thought with the word "GROSS".
(begin happy, playful music...)
The mother, giggling inside, told the sad and surprised child to cry for only five more seconds and then it was time to laugh.
And he did, with tears streaming down his face and giggles squeaking from cracks in his almost-smiling lips. An obedient, and trying-to-be-jolly little fella' with an incredible gift to mood swing. A truly resilient child.
And the mother kissed her child, wiped his tears, wiped the floor, grabbed his snack, took a picture of the accident scene, and walked to the computer to write about a sour moment turned sweet, as he opened an umbrella over her head as she typed, reminding her that spilled milk, spilled yogurt, spilled cheerios, spilled beads, spilled flour, spilled throw-up, spilled laundry soap, and everything else, including spilled honey, that she had cleaned up in the last 15 years was part of a package of motherhood that she wouldn't trade for the world - and that although it sometimes rains, and even pours, "the sun will come out tomorrow".
While the honey was being washed from his tan little legs, she was secretly thankful he was not wearing socks, and then wondered how clean his feet really were and if the honey should be spared - only to quickly rewind that thought with the word "GROSS".
 |
| photo by Sara |
(begin happy, playful music...)
The mother, giggling inside, told the sad and surprised child to cry for only five more seconds and then it was time to laugh.
And he did, with tears streaming down his face and giggles squeaking from cracks in his almost-smiling lips. An obedient, and trying-to-be-jolly little fella' with an incredible gift to mood swing. A truly resilient child.
And the mother kissed her child, wiped his tears, wiped the floor, grabbed his snack, took a picture of the accident scene, and walked to the computer to write about a sour moment turned sweet, as he opened an umbrella over her head as she typed, reminding her that spilled milk, spilled yogurt, spilled cheerios, spilled beads, spilled flour, spilled throw-up, spilled laundry soap, and everything else, including spilled honey, that she had cleaned up in the last 15 years was part of a package of motherhood that she wouldn't trade for the world - and that although it sometimes rains, and even pours, "the sun will come out tomorrow".
The trick, she decided, however, was to continually find joy in the small moments, no matter how sticky the situation, and to love the sweet AND the sour moments in whatever form they came.
The end.
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Sara Lyn Baril is wife to a dashing lawyer named Mark, a mother of five great kids ages 5-15 and a published LDS songwriter with one album to her credit. When she isn't drowning in the laundry piles or lost in the mess of her kitchen, you can find Sara gardening in her flower gardens, writing new music or blogging at www.toliftandinspire.blogspot.com!
(music photo by Rebecca Cooper Photography)
The end.
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Sara Lyn Baril is wife to a dashing lawyer named Mark, a mother of five great kids ages 5-15 and a published LDS songwriter with one album to her credit. When she isn't drowning in the laundry piles or lost in the mess of her kitchen, you can find Sara gardening in her flower gardens, writing new music or blogging at www.toliftandinspire.blogspot.com!(music photo by Rebecca Cooper Photography)
