In the middle of the pastor’s sermon, my best friend passed me a note:
“Aaron ate grilled chicken last night.”
Nothing in the history of Christianity has anything ever made me want to stretch my arms out to the heavens and shout “Praise Jesus!”
Like a mother telling another mother that her toddler ate dinner.
You see, I’m currently in the fight for my sanity trying to get my own toddler to try a bite of her whatever the “duck”.
When the service was over, I cornered her like a mountain cat:
“Start from the beginning and tell me everything.”
There was nothing exciting about the chicken. No grand secret. It was just another charming moment where you try not to get your hopes up that your toddler might indeed eat now. In fact, he might be the best eater in the world now. You try not to envision the TV interviews broadcasted around the globe of the record-breaking amount of grilled chicken your toddler ate.
Moms everywhere will ask you:
“what’s your secret?”
And you’ll reply something lame like “just a little patience and love.” When the real secret was poultry seasoning that you didn’t realize until afterward was expired.
There is no point. There is no secret. You’re now on the crazy emotional rollercoaster driven by a “ducking” toddler with no ability to control their motor skills or emotions.
So hang on to your hat, celebrate the success of your fellow moms, and share your own when you’ve got them.
Because yes, mom. I’m thrilled that your toddler ate grilled chicken.
Comment below to share your own mealtime secrets.