Chosen

Yesterday, Demon Baby was exceedingly good and VERY talkative. He wanted to help clean the house and he articulated every single thought that was in his very smart little head.

"Holy what the heck! What is in this living room?" he screamed as he cleaned up toys.

"Holy what the heck, it's the mess you made."

At the end of a long, exhausting day, I said, "You were so great today. Thanks for being such a helper. I'm really proud of you."

"I think all my meanness is gone."

"You're not mean," I said.

"Well . . . you know, my naughtiness. When I fight my brother and spit on the floor and stuff. I think that's all out of my bloodstream."

This I pondered. Where does this kid GET these concepts?

"I'm glad you are not fighting your brother anymore, and I am really glad about the spitting."

"I bet sometimes you want to trade me for a really, really good kid who doesn't spit."

"Nope."

He cocked his head at me. "Come on. What about a kid who doesn't bring worms in the house."

"Nope."

"All right, what about the time I peed in your closet."

"I could have done without that, but nope." I leaned over. "You are perfect. You are made precisely perfect just the way you are. I think it's a good thing your meanness has left your bloodstream, but I wouldn't have traded you for all the well-behaved kids in the world."

He looked pretty pleased with that answer. Then I kneeled down, eye to eye. "I know this is kind of a big concept, but I think before you were born, your soul CHOSE me, and I think I CHOSE you. And I think we're perfect for each other."

He nodded, eyes shiny. "So even if I spit, you won't trade me."

"Even if you spit."

And off he went.

I'll be honest, there are days when I would like five minutes of peace and quiet. But I do think he chose me. And I chose him. And holy what the heck, that's just the way God works.