As I’m walking back and forth through the house, changing poopy diapers, getting snacks, filling sippy cups and preventing something horrible from soaking into the carpet, I tell Caleb three times, “Caleb, write your name and date.”
And apparently, he hears something else. Or nothing at all?
Some times I get upset when he does something like this. But some times, like here, I just laughed and thought to myself that it’s wonderful to have such a boy. To have someone that I will never understand and who helps me see how wonderfully different God made us.