Be Careful What You Say Or Don’t Say And Who Might Repeat It

One night when all three boys were little, my wife and I decided to go to a restaurant to eat. My youngest was about 1 and we had recently discovered that the world is built for a family of four. Cars have four seats. Restaurants have booths that hold four people. Hotels have extra rates for more than four. Everything seems built around the magical number four We had five. So cars were out and minivans were in. Rollaway beds were always a requirement and we always had to wait longer at restaurants because we had to have tables pulled together. Which was always embarrassing because pulling two tables together made it for eight people. So we always felt bad because we had more room than we really needed.

So on this particular night we really didn’t want to wait for an hour. They boys were hungry and grumpy. Every other word was, “Mommy” this and “Mommy” that. So I told the hostess that we would love to have that open booth over in the corner that I could see no one was sitting at. She said, “But sir it’s only for four.” I told her that we could pull a chair up to the end. She said that was against restaurant policy because it would violate a fire code or something. About that time, one of the boys started to cry and another had decided that the little restaurant sign on the hostess’ podium would probably look better on the floor. So I said, “Fine. Just put us there. We’ll squeeze in.”

So five of us squeezed into a booth made for four. Diaper bags went under the table. A baby carrier perched perilously at the end of a seat. But we did it.

The waiter brought us some chips and the older boys mercifully stopped arguing and started munching. We got our drink orders and after arguing about the menu items, successfully ordered our food.

While we were waiting, my middle son started to tell us a story. He likes to talk with his hands. So on a particularly important point he swung his hands in the air in a flourish and slapped his drink across the booth right into my wife’s lap.

She jumped up. I jumped up. My middle son started to yell out that he was sorry. We grabbed napkins and started to dry the spill and after all of the hectic disaster started to settle down and there was a moment of quiet and all eyes in the restaurant were on us, my oldest son yelled out to my middle son, “You’re just like your Momma!” Oh. My. Goodness. You could have heard a pin drop. I got hit with an icy stare from my dear sweet spouse that said, “You are going to get it!”

Immediately I said, “Where did you hear that from!” He shrugged. I told my wife, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I would never say that.”

I really have no clue where he got that from. I had no support and one mad momma.

All she said was in a quiet whisper, “Well he got it from somewhere.”

Ever since then, it’s been a running joke in my family. When they do something right, they are just like their momma. When they do something stupid, for some reason they’re just like their daddy.

And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would never want my wife to go through an embarrassment like that. And even though the boy didn’t get it from me, he got it from somewhere. So by osmosis, I’m at fault. And if my boys grow up to be like anyone, I promise you I hope they are “just like their momma.”

Let us pray. Our gracious God. We thank you for the people in our lives who you given to us as precious gifts. Those who hear what we say and look to us for help. We pray that the things we do and the words we say will always reflect your grace. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.