I win!! I have to admit I was worried there for a moment. My two year old son has a fierce will, and he had decided he simply wasn't going to be obedient this morning. We fought a battle that should be sung by bards throughout the ages. I am going to have a tapestry made to commemorate the event, and hang it in the halls of my home as a trophy. (Can you tell I've been reading a book set in the Middle Ages lately?)

Anyway, sometimes parenting is a like a battle. The stakes were high this morning. If I didn't come out victorious, then Eli would be a little less of the person he is called to be. More than anything in this life, I want my children to be happy and good natured, and that is born in obedience to their parents, and ultimately, to God. It's my job to make sure he has the foundation he needs, so we waged war in the laying of it.

It's a tough job sometimes. It's no fun to be the bad guy. I'm not immune to my childs cries and discontent, and discipline isn't always easy to dispense. But now, I look over at him, and he's happy again! His bad attitude has been wiped away with the tears. Lines are reestablished, rules reinforced, and he knows the boundaries of his world again. It's strange- you'd think that giving your child the freedom to do whatever he wanted would make him happy, but it doesn't. "Bad kids"- and don't we all know a few-- have the least rules and are some of the unhappiest children. You can look at their faces and see it. And the parents, God bless them-- they're miserable, too. It makes me sad to see it.

I don't hold myself up in comparison though. When I start to lean towards pride, I am reminded in some painful and obvious manner that I am far from perfect. I'm mortally flawed, and I make mistakes. I ask myself all the time if I'm doing this right, if my kids are going to turn out okay. But, God knew me and all my weaknesses when He made me a mother. He has given my children grace to grow despite my imperfect parenting. They belong to Him, and He cultivates them in hidden ways, in unnoticed moments.

When Eli's hands finally submitted to my will this morning, it was his heart submitting to the Greater Will that is cause for my rejoicing. His small, watery voice saying, "I'm sorry" wasn't heard by my ears alone, and the victory tapestry hangs in halls other than mine. But I don't go unrewarded for my efforts-- small arms curl around my neck and peace is made. I hold him tightly, as long as he'll let me, which is never long enough anymore. Before he pulls away, I kiss his forehead and wipe his eyes and give him a little thump on the nose.

I'll see you again, little guy, I think to myself.

But next time, I'm wearing armor.