My Dear, Sweet, Self-Sacrificing Eldest

Tubby is a dear sweet boy. Not quite 9 years of age, and in Grade 4. He has stuggled with mental illness recently, and continues from paedeatrician to psychiatrist to psychologist to pharmacy with amazing strength and hope that we will emerge on the other side of it all.

He had some challenges at school last year, and attempted a variety of different extra-curricular activities after school, in an attempt to find him an interest he might turn his energy and focus on. But between poor self-image, non-existant self-esteem and all the dramas of 8 year old boys, he did not show much excitement or interest in anything.

Which is why I was SO excited last night to see him rummaging through his bag for a permission slip, for an activity he was really keen to try. He dug and peered and searched and threw until he finally emerged, triumphant, with the pink slip requiring my all-important signature.

And as I read it, my heart swelled. My eldest son, in his 8 years of maturity, was as excited about this activity as he usually is about Star Wars and Captain Underpants. I rarely see permission slips from Tubby - he tends to loose them somewhere between his school locker and our front door, and I usually learn of their existance (and my failure to sign them) the day of the proposed activity, when Tubby remembers that "It's TODAY!" as he runs for the bus!

Yet this permission slip arrived home on the day it was given, in perfect flat condition with not a crease or a tear in sight. I would never have guessed that such an activity would inspire such care and concern in my son - but it did.

And so I read the form, and teared up a little with pride as I signed it.

And gave my heartfelt approval and permission for my son to travel to a local nursing home and read aloud to the residents there. Tubby is an avid reader, and I was so pleased to see him find a way to meet and share with the community whilst exploring something he enjoys so much.

After handing back the permission slip, I shared some of my feelings - my pride in him, my happiness to see my own son selflessly sharing his time and skills with others, my love for him and his choices, what a good thing it was for him to be prepared to travel the distance into town and share his reading skills with others ..................... and so on and so on!

And he listened patiently right to the end.

And blushed a little.

And grinned at me sheepishly and said : "Mum, if it gets me out of Maths on Tuesdays, I'll do ANYTHING!!"

Bottoms Up!

Being Sunday, and being Christians, the family went to church this morning. And made up about half the congregation, by the time me, my kids, plus my sister and her kids all troop in.
Well maybe not exactly half - but we take up a considerable chunk of one section of seating - and make more noise than the rest of the gathering together!

Sometimes I wonder why we go to church. Between answering odd questions fired at me by my own children and the half dozen others I find seated with me when the service begins; trying to sing worship songs while Pants attempts to cover my mouth with his grubby little fingers and the Honey Girl hisses "STOP MU-UUM! Don't sing!"; refereeing fights between the Rabbit and Tubby over who got hold of the church library book printed in c.1786 about some imaginary characters we're never heard of or show interest in EXCEPT when your brother is holding the book; and Boombah requiring multiple feeds which usually leave me wondering when I get home if I remembered to tuck my boob away after Feed # 245, when I stood up walked out mid-sermon, or if maybe 3/4 of the congregation saw a "sign" they won't forget in a hurry and which perhaps burned images on their minds they won't forget for all eternity ........ I'm not sure I actually DO much "church" besides arriving (mostly!) on time and leaving when it's all over and the coffee has run out!

But we attend nonetheless - the boys pack their light sabres and swords, and the Honey Girl brings along an assortment of tea sets and weaponry to cover all potential play bases. And they pretend to listen attentively to messages about love and kindness and compasison, and then join the other church boys in games of warfare and destruction as soon as the service ends!

Today I had the pleasure of sharing some of the service with Bruvva - my sister's almost-2-year old and younger "bruvva" of Bear. The Cousins From Up the Road. When Bruvva wasn't climbing in and out of our pram, or sitting on my lap cheering "BIIIIIIIC!", he was seated placidly on his Daddy's lap nearby, apparently listening carefully to the message accompanying communion.


Communion in our family is something we share with our children, and we use the time to explain the basic truths behind the ritual to them, in terms they understand. And for the most part, Belle and I think our children understand the importance of such a tradition; they seem to grasp the meaning behind the deed; they appear to accept the spiritual importance and strength of the act. If nothing else, they respect the solemnity of such an occasion.

Bruvva's patience was admirable in one so young, as he quietly sat through the entire communion message, and solemly accepted his small biscuit and munched quietly. His patience and serious attitude continued as the tiny glasses of grape juice were handed out to the congregation with instructions to hold onto the glass until all were served and then we would share the drinking together.
Now remember this boy is not quite 2 - and he sat through the entire process with patience and solemness not easily mustered in even a much more mature person. He held his little glass and seemed intent on not even tasting it until the appropriate time.



And then the leader stopped speaking, and it was clearly *almost* the moment Bruvva had been awaiting so long. Just before the communion leader announced that the congregation would now drink together; in that time of silent reflection and spiritual peace, Burvva's little voice piped up - loud and clear and bursting with excitement :

"CHEERS!"


And he knocked back his glass of juice and grinned at his audience!