Now tell me there’s no God…

I was taught at a young age never to discuss politics, religion, or sex in mixed company. I try to adhere to this guideline, for at least two out of the three topics. (::wink wink::) And it seems to make sense for me for a couple of reasons. One, no one’s opinion on any of the above has ever changed mine. And two, I am not seeking to change anyone else’s. I think everyone having the right to their own opinions and practices is part of what makes this country so amazing. But once in a while, you see or experience something that makes it hard for even the most adamant Atheist to deny the existence of a higher power, both directing and protecting us. Among these experiences are an infant wrapping its tiny hand around your finger, a breath-taking sunset, a wall of honeysuckle growing volunteer, and what happened in my house today.

Zachary, my near two-year-old, came plopping down the hall in his typical heavy footed fashion. “Mommy, mommy, yoook!” <Look.> He is always excitedly sharing his new discoveries, so him telling me to “yook” is a daily, perhaps hourly, occurrence. I was not alarmed. When he rounded the corner to the kitchen and displayed to me is magenta hands, I was puzzled at first.

Then I recognized the hue… the very one I painted on my toenails this morning. And I remembered having left the bottle of polish on my bathroom counter, stupidly within toddler reach. Rookie mistake.

It’s hard for me to recall what exactly came to my mind first (besides swear words), because so many disastrous possibilities lay before me. I know I wasn’t frozen long though, because Zac was eager to take me back down the hall to show me what he’d “found.” But for that quick moment, I pictured blotches of pink down my hallway walls, a pink trail to follow on my hardwood floors, ruined carpet, a pink cat? When I arrived at the scene, what I saw shocked me more than if he had finger-painted my quilt. He had opened the bottle, put the cap/brush end into the sink, and painted his hands in the process. The bottle still sat upright on the counter. Not a drop or a drizzle on anything, except of course a little in the porcelain sink, which I could easily wipe up with a remover pad. The panic was quickly replaced with relief. He hadn’t touched a single thing with his pink paws… just came to show me. Now– tell me there’s no God.



About dramafreemama

I am a wife, homeowner, teacher, sister, pet-owner, and friend...But the most humbling and moving role in my life to date is that of a mother, or better yet, a MOMMY. We live in a rural area of Virginia and we keep it simple. This blog is about juggling life in all these different roles. Please subscribe/follow and ENJOY!
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