Peanut butter and Cheerios are my new favorite foods. Especially when my toddler feeds them to me from the kitchen floor during our “midnight munchies” routine.
My family has undergone a huge transition over the past month, and I am confident that my one-year-old can feel it. We moved home to the States after living abroad for two years, leaving behind a community of dear friends who felt like family, a foreign language that now feels like my own, and a lifestyle that I long for but is so unlike the American way. I can only imagine the confusion in the mind and heart of my little one, as he, too, adjusts to the new things and people around him.
On top of this, he was feeling sick and teething pretty intensely, and he is still adjusting to a much earlier bedtime now that my husband wakes up for a 4 am shift every morning. So many drastic changes all at once would be hard for anyone—let alone a toddler!
One night last week, it was 1 am, and my son showed no signs of sleep. He ran around the apartment demanding food, climbing on the furniture, knocking down towers of blocks. I was not sure what to do anymore to keep him quiet and let my husband sleep, or better yet, to get us to sleep, too.
Was he upset with me? Bored? Over-tired? Hungry? I grabbed the first thing I could find in our messy kitchen full of moving boxes—our beloved jar of peanut butter and a spoon. I offered a scoop to my son. He grabbed it from my hand and turned to run away, and I slumped onto the kitchen floor, surrendering myself to the fact that it would soon be on the couch and on the walls and everywhere else for me to clean up in the morning. As he sped away, I was given the grace to laugh and say, “I love you.”
My son stopped mid-stride and turned around, smiling—that precious dimpled smile that makes my mama-heart swoon. He toddled back to me, looked at the spoon in his hand, looked at me. Back again at the spoon. And with the most generous smack, he plopped the peanut butter on my mouth. He then plopped his peanut butter-covered mouth on my cheek to give Mama a sweet, slobbery kiss.
This was the moment when he realized that he could feed his Mama, and he hasn’t stopped since. At every opportunity, he is determined to share each bite of his food with me. His eyes open wide and shimmer while he giggles and stuffs another handful of soggy Cheerios into my mouth.
This was also the moment when I realized he understood the words “I love you” and responded with a hug and a kiss. This reminds me of Saint Paul’s words to the Corinthians: to Imitate me as I imitate Christ. As my little one is surely observing and imitating me, am I offering him a true imitation of the Lord?
While I can tell that this transition has been hard on all of us, it seems the best things to do are to rejoice in the gifts of my family and our new home—both of which God has entrusted to my care; to be patient with each person in my family—including myself, as we adjust to change; to be generous in “feeding” one another the things that matter; and ultimately, to cry out to God, our loving Father, who provides for all of our needs better than we ever can on our own.
If anyone is looking for me or my son, you can probably find us on the kitchen floor—laughing at each other with faces full of peanut butter and rejoicing with hearts full of gratitude for our Heavenly Father who remains constant when everything around us changes.
