February 24 – “Food Fight”

Well, now.  Yesterday we had quite an interesting event at the Vaughan house.  I came home from the school early because Chris said Mom was complaining of being dizzy.  I actually got a lot of work done there in my home office getting ready for our big discernment meeting Sunday.  I sure hope everybody else can sense the excitement about this kind of planning for Seaside.  There are all kinds of possibilities.   And then the children arrived.  Nathan had to work and April was studying, so Cailyn came over to take her nap and play.  Her latest game involves car keys.  And the car.  She knows that the keys are required to get inside, so she grabs the keys and bolts out the front door, which she, by the way, has figured out how to unlock.  She puts the key into the door lock and expects it to magically open.  Once it does (well, once I open it for her), she crawls right into the driver's seat, puts the key into the proper place, and tries to turn it.  She even attempts to put on her seat belt.  Then she grabs the steering wheel and takes off.  It's quite a creative leap for a two year old.  I don't think Chris was very happy that I let her do it, though.   Kel and Christina were gathering the last of their things from their old house and cleaning, so we also had all three of their boys.  That made for a houseful of loudness.  And activity.  And a certain degree of craziness.  It was great.    Now to the event of the day.  I was sitting in a rocking chair in the office.  Chris and all the kids were horsing around on the floor.  I think April may even have been back by then.  Mom was awake and was on the couch in the other room.  Cailyn was having a snack – a banana.  She showed it to me, then slowly unpeeled it, one strip at a time.  And the strips, of course, ended up in my hand.  She took a few more bites of the now naked fruit, and was done.  So the remains joined the spent peels in my hand.  About that time Jachin, who is 6, crawled into my lap.  For some unknown reason he thought it would be fun to pick on the old man, even encouraging his younger brother to join him.  Now what was I to do?  I had him in my lap, antagonizing me.  I held a handful of soggy banana.  How could I do anything else?  Totally beyond my control, my arm began to slowly rise into the air.  It inched closer and closer toward Jachin's face.  He realized what was happening soon enough, and fought back mightily, calling out for help from Micah and giggling uncontrollably.  The mass of mess touched him only slightly.  I could have nailed him good, but the whole time Chris was wagging her finger and saying, "No food fights."   Finally he slithered out of my grasp, and he and Micah disappeared into the kitchen, only to return seconds later, each holding a partially peeled banana of his own.  They were on the attack.  I took a few hits to the nose and cheek, and I was able to fend off one attack by taking a bite of the missile itself.  The admonishments of Field General Chris were too much for all of us to ignore, however, so the hilarity soon wound down.  Jachin ate the rest of his weapon.  Micah set the half-eaten remnants of his down, so I picked it up and took it to the kitchen.   Now Mom had heard the commotion, and when she saw me in the kitchen, she demanded, "Tell me what all that racket was about."  Her words stopped me in my tracks.  All sorts of responses flooded into my head as I glanced down at the banana in my hand.  Of course I wanted to be the obedient son, so I attempted clarification.  "Are you sure you want to know?"  "Well, yes, I want to know," was her impatient reply.  I began the slow walk over to the couch.  As I eased closer I called out to Jachin and Micah, "Hey, boys, MeeMaw wants to know what we were doing in there.  Want to show her with me?"  That brought an instantaneous, "Yes," from them as they raced into the room.  Mom sat on her perch, quizzically looking from me to Jachin, to Micah.  They were both laughing by now, for they could see the banana behind my back, and their little boy mischief minds had connected with mine.  When would we ever have this opportunity again?  I asked one more time, "Just to be sure, do you really want to know what we were doing in there?"  She again replied in the affirmative, so I shrugged my shoulders at the boys, whipped the banana from behind my back, and rubbed it (gently of course) into Mom's nose.  The boys squealed with delight and raced off into the other room to make their report to the Field General.  I joined them to make sure they got the details correct, ditching the evidence on my way.    We laughed for a few minutes under the stern gaze and wagging finger of the General.  And then we heard it.  The tell-tale "Click-shuffle, click-shuffle" that told us Mom had risen from the couch and was on the move.  A hush came over the room as we all turned in expectation in the direction of the sound.  She slowly made her way through the doorway, "Click-shuffle, Click-shuffle," until there she was.  With a handful of grapes, poised to throw at the first sign of her enemy.  Fortunately, I was on the floor already, so I ducked under my desk and gave the warning cry, "She's gonna throw the grapes.  Watch out."  The boys squealed.  Her arm started back.  And through the din came the final cry from the Field General herself, accompanied by the tell-tale finger wagging, "Meemaw.  No food fights."      Pslams 85:6 says, "Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?"   Father, awaken in us the childlike spirit of play that Mom showed.  Amen.