We got to spend the night with Josiah last night. Not that we slept at his house. We were just there until around midnight. His Mom and Dad and two older brothers went to Houston to watch that monster truck extravaganza. They do it every year with Christina's Dad. They thought about taking Josiah, because he would love the trucks. But then it's really difficult for a less-than-two-year-old to sit relatively still for the two or three hours of the show. Hey, it's difficult for me to sit through a show that lasts one hour.
They figured to be back around 10:30 or so, based on the reports of Christina's sister who went last week. She said they left around 9. Come to find out, that's when the intermission started. Kel said there were so many wrecks and red flags that he didn't think they would ever leave. I thought wrecks were the whole point in something like that. But he did explain that it was hard to continue the show when one of the monsters flipped over on its back and blocked everyone else's path. I pictured a gigantic monster turtle with legs flopping around aimlessly toward the sky. When the show finally ended they got stuck in the parking lot along with the thousands of other cars trying to go home. So they got back sometime after 11:20.
"Why 11:20?" you may ask. I remember that time because Mom's watch is stuck on 11:20. Around 6:30 she was ready to go to bed, since her watch said it was 11:20. Then about every hour or so she made another attempt to find whichever bed she was supposed to sleep in. I don't anticipate it being very easy to get her out of bed today.
Josiah was great, of course. He's really beginning to jabber a lot, and every now and then I was able to understand him. I got "Eat" with no trouble, and he added "cheese sammitch" to that one. Actually Chris made him one. He opened it up, licked the full length of it, then handed it back to her. Guess he just need a quick taste. We started watching TV at one point, so he flopped down on his belly and started groping under the couch we were sitting on. I had no idea what he was reaching for, but he was intent on reaching it. Finally he grunted and groaned and pulled out one of those little kids' size camping chairs, all folded up. He then set to work trying to open it. After a brief struggle he shared another word from his ever-increasing vocabulary, "Help." We got him set up right there in front of the couch, and he climbed on. Settling himself in with one foot up and an arm over the back of the chair, he looked to be the picture of contentment. But then he remembered something he was missing in his tiny little microcosm of a man cave. He glanced over his shoulder at us, reached out an empty hand, and commanded, "'mote please." Of course. What man cave is complete without a TV remote. That's our little man.
Isaiah 53:7 says, "He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth."
Father, thank you for making it possible for us to experience our grandkids growing up. I wouldn't miss this for the world. Amen.
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