My Little Drummer Boy

This morning was difficult. For reasons unknown to me, my child decided that he did not want to get up when it was time for church. I opened his door at 8:00 and he was still asleep. This valley remains dark in the morning for what seems like forever before the sun decides to pop over the Wasatch mountains. (Wasatch range? Front? I've been here almost a year but some things remain foreign.) On top of that, my son's room faces west so it stays darker longer. He stirred and I picked him up. He proceeded to cuddle into my arms, content to snuggle for the rest of eternity. Why, oh why, does he choose hurried church mornings to do the one thing I would love most for him to do on any other morning? We cuddled for a few minutes and, when I went to get his clothes, I left him on our bed, wrapped in a fuzzy throw. I packed his diaper bag and picked out church attire and headed back into my room. His eyes were tiny slits. He was barely hanging on to consciousness.

I managed to get him dressed and fed and, when we finally headed out the door, he nearly fell asleep in the car. I began to think he was getting sick. At church he wanted me to hold him. With his head on my shoulder he almost fell asleep again. I thought it might be best to keep him with me in my adult class but thought I would try to get him to go to his class. He wasn't warm. He had no signs of a cold. He wasn't vomiting. So I started toward the 2's & 3's room.

Me: Let's go to Sunday school now. Would you like to play with toys?
Garrett: No Mommy.
Me: Well, let's just go in there and see what we find, okay?
Garrett: NO Mommy.

And then he clung harder to my jacket. As I opened the door to his room I sent out a warning.

Me: He is really clingy and tired this morning. I might have to take him with me to Sunday school.
Miss Karena: Hi Garrett! We saved the drum for you.

And there in his class room was an old coffee can covered in paper. A rope was attached to it and there were two sticks. She held it out for him and he squirmed out of my arms, grabbed the drum and immediately began banging on the top of it. He saw that I was still there and pointed at the door. "Mommy, here!" So I turned and walked out. And he never shed a tear.

He loves music. He loves the piano. He loves the guitar. But oh how he loves drums most of all.