My Writch Istes!

That's right. My son told me that he couldn't lay still at nap time because, "my writch istes...uh, I mean my itch wristes...Uh I mean my WRIST ITCHES!" I tried to find it cute, but was far to obsessed with how scary it was. I used to (and still often do) talk so fast that my thoughts rarely came out clearly on the first try. My friends in high school coined the phrase "Amberism" to describe these and other such foreign thoughts that would enter my head and inevitably exit my mouth. I actually prefer the given name to describe this incident-"spoonerism." Come on, you can't say that one without a goofy grin-spoonerism=). The point is (if indeed their actually is one) that I think I am creating a little monster, or at least a smaller, male version of myself. This is scary and I am not sure if I am up for the task. I entered this whole parenthood thing with much more confidence then I currently possess and when it comes to parenting I think my mouth has written checks that my butt can't cash (to coin one of my husband's favorite phrases). It's not just the language thing either. What if my poor children end up with every quirky, obsessive, maladjusted, impetuous personality flaw that I possess? And worse yet, what if that is all they inherit...none of my husband's adorable traits...just my crazy genes?! I can't even fathom how people endeavor to raise children without the surety of God's sovereignty. The hope that He is making all things new is the only thing that has kept me from anonymously dropping myself off at my local fire station...seriously. On that note, I must go entertain the three young angels. I hope to se back boon!