i secretly love that emri doesn’t say all of her words right. i’m not even sure why i just said secretly. there is nothing secretive about the fact
that i’m hanging on to every little moment.
the other day all three of us were at latte land. i with my cup of coconut tea, ben with his black coffee, and emri with her sunrise on the plaza.
she was gitty to see ben. (we met him after he got off work). she kept telling him,
“i want to tell you somsing!”
ben started to correct her when he caught me glaring at him.
he should know better, really.
we will not, under any circumstances, correct her words at this time.
for as long as possible. even if we have to lie to her, she shall continue to call
she shall continue to sing
for geese a holly good fellow, which nobody can denise!
and a myriad of other small endearing words.
i’m sincerely setting her up for failure, i understand this.
but heck, it wasn’t until last year that i figured out that chester drawers were actually
chest of drawers. genius.
i feel the need to also share that yesterday morning emri woke up to tell me,
“momma, i had a dream i married a pony. it was so embarras.”
i’m pretty sure that only emri dreams weird stuff like that.
also, since i’m on a roll with my emri, i want to mark down a really sweet memory.
we’ve been reading our bibles together in the morning in front of our big window.
i don’t want to force stuff like this, so i’m always crossing my fingers hoping that she’ll be into it.
and she is.
we are reading the jesus storybook bible by sally lloyd jones.
i can’t make it through the pages without crying. and having emri ask me,
“momma, why are you crying?”
it really is a precious translation of the bible for children and ahem…30 year old women.
so as soon as we wake up, before breskiss, we climb up on the couch. open the curtains. and wait for the sun to come up.
ironically, or maybe just because God is real and alive, the first chapter we read is talking about Jesus being the light of the world, that chases away darkness.
we watch the sun creep up over the houses across the street and slowly light up the sky.
emri is fascinated that Jesus is like the sun that chases away darkness.
and so am i.
emri puffs out her chest, raises her eyebrows, and confidently pipes up,
“i’m not afraid of the dark, and i can even fight bears.”
(i never really know how to respond to that)
i should have said, “really, is that why you make me turn your night light on every night?”
we move on with the story.
“mom, if the doctors cut open our hearts, will they see Jesus?”
i said no. because we can’t see Jesus with our eyes yet.
“momma, i want to see him.”
i told her she would one day. i said one day when we get to heaven, we will see him and start running for him. and he’ll scoop us up in his arms and hug us. like a big grandpa would.
i told her that Jesus would be her favorite. that she would love him the most.
i told her that his house was so cool. way cooler than even grammy’s or gigi’s house.
emri’s eyes got big.
“i want to go now.”
i told her we would. one day.
she’s like a sponge. and i get to tell her about Jesus.
probably, one of the coolest responsibilities in the whole, wide world.