Cuddlebug's Theology

I've decided to rename my children for this blog. My numbers as pronouns are not working well. Recently, I commented on an acquaintence's blog about the work of redemption that One accomplished, but she graciously misunderstood my meaning to be about my daughter, not the Lord! That can't be good. Therefore, the daughter previously known as One will now be Fifi. That's what her sister called her before she could say, "Sissy." Two will be Dumpling because as a toddler she was fat, fat, fat! Oh, how I miss her "bacon!" There she is showing Daddy the tooth she lost while I brushed her teeth for bed tonight. About time! That tooth had been holding on for dear life for months as the permanent tooth behind it grew in full height and waited for its turn in the line-up. She knows we're the "tooth fairy" -- it's all about the "pieces of money" for her. *I've got to remember to do that.*

Three will be Cuddlebug because that's what she is -- our most physically affectionate child; I might end up calling her Bug for short, we shall see. I'd really like to call her Mogli as in Kipling's Jungle Book because at this age, that's what she looks like -- tall, lanky, brown with a big head and stringy bob that has grown out to her shoulders. Cuddlebug is nicer though.

So, we are once again working on the house. We are redoing the girls' room with new paint and bed coverings. It's been quite a mish-mash of colors and themes since we moved all three into one space. But before we can do that, we've got to retexture the area on which a wallpaper border once lay...once lay?...once lie?...whatever. And as long as we're in there, we've decided to scrape the popcorn texture off the ceiling. (Whose bright brainstorm was that hideous stuff?) All this means that the girls are sleeping in other rooms for the next couple of weekends.

Last night all three were in the downstairs master/playroom/guest space. We didn't feel real comfortable being that far away from them -- especially the little ones. So tonight we left Fifi (11yrs) downstairs with the dog and put Dumpling(6yrs) and Cuddlebug(3yrs) in their own bed, but in the empty secondary bedroom upstairs across from us (the one equipped with a crib awaiting one of the "100 and 66 bebes" that Cuddlebug(3yrs) prays for 3-5 times per day). About 15 minutes into MomTime after putting them down, Cuddlebug(3yrs) comes downstairs to say she's afraid.

"But you have Dumpling(6yrs) with you." I'm turning her and motioning her back up the steps, and I'm following one step behind. She is sweetly submitting to my will, but continues to plead her case.

"But I still afraid."

"Well, let's see what I can do to make you feel better until Daddy and I get up there for bed. Shall I leave the door open a little bit?"

"No. I want another person wit me."

"Well, Dumpling(6yrs) is there...and Jesus is there."

"I want another alive person."

"Oh, but Jesus IS alive, baby."

She turns her waif-like little body around at the top of the stairs and states, "But I want someone else here -- not in Heaven."

Bless her sweet little heart. Can't argue with that! Jesus is at the right hand of God, and I'm not going to make it up as I go. His Spiritual Presence or ministering angels just seemed too abstract and ethereal to use on a 3-year old. So, bedtime lingered. She cried a gentle plea for Fifi(11yrs) to come sleep upstairs, which I answered with our standard lullaby, "A Nightingale Sang In Barkley Square." She suggested that I could ask Daddy to help me carry in Big Sister's mattress, so I explained that Fifi(11yrs) was already in bed. She reasoned that I could wake her up, so...in the end...I carried her downstairs to sleep with her sister who, as it turns out, was only a little shy about being glad for the company as well.

My bookends. They are two peas in a pod.