Girls Are Yucky

Micah: I met someone at swim class who's going to kindergarten too. 


Me: Oh, yeah, are you friends?


Micah (with disdain): No way, she's a girl!


Me: That's not very kind.  Why can't you be friends with a girl?


Micah (with serious contempt): Because they smell!


Me (trying to stifle a laugh): They do? 


Micah: Yeah, they smell like girl. 


Me (so glad I'm driving so he can't see me grinning): What do girls smell like?


Micah: Like pretty stuff.

Me: Do I smell?


Micah: No, girls in your own family aren't smelly. 


Even though it was a few days ago, I can't stop chuckling over this little exchange.  I love to glimpse inside my children's logic.

While I'm hoping Micah's distaste for the opposite sex will remain intact for another fifteen years at least, I can't help but imagine the young lady that might capture his heart should it be God's plan for him to marry.

What is she doing right now?  What are her little girl dreams?  How is God preparing her right now to be my son's wife?


I know that my mother-in-law prayed for me long before she knew it was I who would walk down the aisle to her son.  And I'm sure those prayers, along with my own family praying for me, protected me from my own immaturity, sinfulness, and lack of wisdom to prepare me to stand and live and work side-by-side with Nate.


So I'm praying for you, little girls, whoever you might be.  Little girls whom my sons will cleave to when they leave me.  Little girls who will wash my sons' grown man socks.  Little girls who will rock my grandchildren to sleep.  Little girls who will interlock fingers with my sons and walk with them through the hard times.  I think I love you already.