I've always believed that one of my biggee jobs as a mom is to do all I can to get my kids to heaven. Until lately, I thought of that as something more spiritual, long term, continuing after my passing. We had another episode of Jack, Jack Attack at church today and I'm realizing that getting him to heaven is not going to be the problem; the problem is going to be keeping him alive until fatherhood. Mostly, because he is such a daredevil; I'm afraid that heaven could be closer than I think. He is always scaling something: the church pew in front of us, the shelves in the cry room, his changing table, the girl's bunkbed, basically anything higher than himself. I have to be in constant alert mode, which of course, is wearing me out. Here it is 9pm and I'm ready for bed.
I got a waffle iron so it'll be waffles for breakfast. Can't wait!
