Several Christmas’ ago, I was standing by my kitchen sink early in the morning making muffins. I noticed the presence of my three year old son out of the corner of my eye. He was dressed in his jammies. A blanket, decorated with frogs, was draped over his head and shoulders in a standard shepherd like fashion.
“Hi! I’m Jonas,” he said in his gruff little voice.
I quickly tried to process toddler dialect. Jonas? Did he mean Jonah from the bible? No, it’s Christmas time; he must mean Joseph.
“Oh! Do you mean Joseph?” I asked.
“Yah, that guy. Jofus, “ he grunted as he pointed over his shoulder. “And that’s Mary right behind me.”
“Mary and Joseph! And what are you doing?” I queried.
“Taking care of some animals."
“And what else are you doing?” I asked.
“And where are you going?” I continued.
“To a stable."
“And what are you going to do there?” I asked, curious about his rendition of the Christmas story .
“Fix it,” he said plainly. (That is when Bob the Builder was popular and fixing things was Bob’s job).
“And what else is Mary going to do there?” I asked, eager to hear my dear son express the true meaning of Christmas.
“Why, she’s going to have the baby Jesus!” he said.
Now, I was excited. I dried off my hands, knelt down next to him and held his little perfectly round face in my hands. I could hardly wait.
“Oh! William! And WHY is Mary going to have the baby Jesus?” I asked with great enthusiasm and passion.
His little blue eyes looked at me, peaking past the blanket, a bit confused at my question and said, “Well, because she’s a girl!”
I still chuckle every time I think of that story. What does one say after that? I’m not sure. I just hugged him and smiled, and it brings me joy to this day. Hope it made you smile, too.