The little voice down the hall says “Uh, David, this is a problem!” and suddenly David is dashing towards us down the hall saying something about a plunger and water running.  I get up quickly and sure enough, the four year old has apparently clogged the toilet and water is pouring onto the floor.  David has run for towels, Doug is grabbing the plunger and trying to turn off the water.  In the meantime, David starts to throw towels on the floor and I start mopping up.  The four year old stands watching with this look on his face like “oh man, what did I do?”, so I’m mopping and trying to reassure him that everyone has accidents.

A little while later, the water has been mopped up, towels are in the washer and the water is back on.  And the little voice asks “is the toilet short again?”.  It took me a second, but obviously he was asking if the water had gone back down.  He was much relieved when I told him yes, the toilet was short again.

Over the last several years, we’ve finally gotten to the point where our place looks like adults live here.  The furniture is nice, there are clean pillows on the couch, there are breakable things on tables.  No more crayons melted in the heat register, no more kid sized dents in the walls, no grape jelly smeared on the couch cushions.  But things are changing.  The apartment that was clean and straightened before the four year old now has toys all over the floor of the office, Paw Patrol fruit snacks and kid proof plastic cup on the kitchen counter.  I’m having to think about child-proofing areas, making sure anything unsafe is too high for him to reach.

I had my first child 34 years ago.  I was clueless.  I remember sitting on the bed with my newborn, both of us crying and neither of us knowing what to do about it.  I made so many mistakes with my kids and was so uptight about them behaving just the right way because I was worried about what others might think.  I didn’t want to look like a bad parent, despite the fact that I was obviously a very inexperienced parent.

Three grown boys later,  27 years of teaching under my belt and handling young kids of all ages, dealing with one 4 year old now is work, but it’s not the least bit stressful.  And because it’s not stressful, even the little catastrophes are funny.  It’s easy to reassure this little guy that making mistakes is part of growing up and learning.  I so wish I had had my act together with my own kids that way.  But maybe that’s what my job is now.  Just like my grandma was that source of unconditional love, the one who took me for rides in her cool pink Cadillac and brought me yummy things when I rang her Chinese dragon bell.  For whatever reason I called her Hummingbird Grandma which is one of the reasons why I am so attached to hummingbirds today.  I didn’t get to visit with her often, but when I did, I knew she always loved me, no matter what.

One of the things I love to do and think is part of my job is reassuring young parents that their child is going to be okay.  When they’re all concerned because the grades just aren’t what they think they should be or that there are behavior issues, it’s my job to reassure them that it’s part of being a kid and that we’ll work together to do the best we can for their child.  I’m pretty sure that’s why God gave me three boys with three completely different personalities because I can usually recall when one of them did something similar to what I’m seeing with someone else’s child.  And my boys grew up to be fine, hardworking adults.  And their child will too.

So tonight, the towels are in the dryer, the messes are picked up and we’re back to having only adults in the house.  And it’s nice. It’s a bit ironic that you have all of the energy when you have no experience and after you gain the experience you have less energy.  But I have plenty of energy to always love this four year old, even when the water is high.