Lead me, guide me.

One cannot leave Jack alone unsupervised. Period. He is completely incapable of staying out of trouble. Eggshells crushed in the toilet. Lipstick and mascara smeared into the carpet. Chocolate syrup painted all over the refrigerator. These are only a few of the events that have transpired while I was taking a shower.

You think I would have learned my lesson by now.

All I wanted to do was dry my hair before it permanently settled into a unsightly tangled mess. I wanted to be alone. For five minutes. The Disney Channel would keep him occupied. After about the third minute of uninterrupted primping, my finely tuned Jack instinct alerted me to the fact that it was a little bit too quiet upstairs. I could only hear the Disney Channel.

I found him doing this:


Oh, but the picture doesn't even begin to do it justice. That is an entire shaker of salt dumped out onto the counter, poured into the dishwasher, and spread over one third of the kitchen floor. In order to clean up this disaster, Jack has taken it upon himself to spray some 409 all over the mess.

"Quick! Better clean up before Mom sees it!"

(I know, I know. What kind of mother of a kid like mine would be dumb enough to leave 409 out on the counter!?!?)

Given my knowledge of his checkered past, I felt largely to blame for the situation. So I refrained from being harsh. But then he wouldn't stay out of my way while I cleaned it up. Despite my warnings of dire, unpleasant consequences, he kept scuffing his feet on the salty floor, making an even bigger mess. So I grabbed him and put him in his room.

After doing my best to clean everything up, I went downstairs to let him out. I found him standing on a chair trying his hardest to yank a picture off the wall. The best part? He was singing "Lead me, guide me, walk 'side me. Help me (mumble, mumble) waaaaaaaaay."

You probably think my heart melted and I went over to hug him, right? Well, you're wrong. I laughed. I laughed because the doctrinal undercurrent of this whole experience was so strong.

Yes, Jack. You are a child of God, as made manifest by the fact that you are choosing to exercise your agency. To an alarming degree.


I feel like I need to talk to my doctor about my ever-increasing risk of developing hypertension.