Thursday, March 6, 2008


Brehm is a picky eater.  Elijah is the Tasmanian Devil.  Brehm fusses over every bite.  Elijah has tried to eat the support columns at our local Target store.  I’m not kidding.  Brehm didn’t used to be that way.  There was a time when he would eat anything we put in front of him.  Fruit?  He’d eat it.  Mustard?  He’d make funny faces….but he’d eat it.  Now….he has very specific things that he likes and, much to our chagrin, those things change from day to day.  Some of you may recall a previous newsletter where I mentioned that he loved a dish called kugel.  Much like computer technology, that essay was obsolete as soon as I wrote it.  Our doctor tells us that it’s normal for his age.  He said that he’s known of kids who eat only Cheerios for a year and turn out normal.  Somehow I think that he’s lying to me but the lie makes me feel better. 


So, for right now, his favorite lunchtime treat is peanut butter and grape jelly on wheat bread.  It’s healthy for him and so we are happy to oblige.  Lately that is what we send in for his lunch along with apple slices and small thing of yogurt with a picture of Diego on it (if you have to ask…you don’t have kids).  “Not Dora,” he said, “that’s for girls!”   OK then. 


The other day, while I was still on Cape Cod, Laura (aka Superwoman) had managed to wrangle all three kids, make a fresh breakfast, prepare lunches, got them dressed and out the door, all by 7:45 AM.  I can barely tie my shoes by 7:45 AM.   I married up.  So anyway….the lunch she had made was Brehm’s favorite; peanut butter and jelly on wheat bread.  It’s what he likes and it’s good for him so everything should be OK.  Right?  Wrong. 

The scenario I’m about to describe took place while I was up on The Cape for Easter so I’ll tell it as best I can based on the accounts I’ve heard.  At our kid’s daycare, they all take naps.  This is only partially because the kids need them.  I think the teachers need the break too.  They have little blue cots, which appear to be far more comfortable than the squares of rug-sample I tossed and turned on when I was a kid.  They have it so easy now.  They even get pillows.


 Well…..after lunch it was time for nap and Brehm, despite his insistence that he loves PB&J, had not eaten his lunch.  His teacher had given him more than enough time but he had decided to goof off instead.  So they put the children on their cots, dimmed the lights, and put on some quiet music.  But this is where it gets weird.  Brehm would not stay on his cot.  That is not the strange part.  He can’t sit in a chair for more than a second and a half either.  What was unusual was what he was doing.  He was finding crumbs from lunch that were still on the floor and eating those.  Our son, who had a good lunch, lovingly made, was eating crumbs off the floor!  When I heard this, my “father’s heart” hurt.  My son, who I love, should not be eating crumbs!  I know it was his choice (both to eat the crumbs and NOT eat his lunch).  I know that he doesn’t yet understand that the crumbs are dirty and could make him sick (the floor we are talking about is, after all, a daycare floor).  But all I wanted to do was to be back in Tennessee and be in that daycare so I could tell him that my son should not eat scraps from a dirty floor.  And, as is often the case, God reminded me that He is a father too.  That He has prepared a table for me.  One that is set even in the presence of my enemies. He reminded me that by His grace, I am made His son and invited to dine there.  To eat with my father, The King, instead of scrounging for crumbs.  Despite knowing this in my head, I think I often choose to goof off and ignore the feast God offers.  Then I scramble for scraps later.  I trade what is good for me and lovingly prepared for what is dirty and can make me sick.  I think we all do that.  And so God, with the love of His Father’s Heart, DID come to Tennessee, and Massachusetts, and Galilee, and, and, and.  And He tells us, “No child of mine should eat crumbs.”  So come, Children of the King, let us dine.