To No One's Surprise, Her Preschool Self-Portrait Included a LOT of Blood

I apologize for the profuse Lilly-blogs lately, but that girl has been ON A ROLL. I wish I could post every wild thing that comes flying out of her mouth, but there are not volumes large enough to contain it.

And my ears just get so dang TIRED that they involuntarily shut down.

At parent-teacher conferences on Thursday, her teachers informed me that she is quite a "character." I asked them to define that as I pondered some other "characters" that might better be defined as "sociopaths" or "wackos."

Anyway, they clarified and delcared her "a lively personality." That conjured up images of Richard Simmons,

but since they didn't use his name directly, I'll choose to believe they meant it as a compliment.

Or maybe Beth Moore, because Lilly loves to talk about theology and deep biblical matters.

Let me set the scene: Jackson, Lilly, and I are sky-rocketing through town in our sleek, tiny, navy Chevy Malibu (WHEN, OH WHEN WILL I EVER SEE MY SUBURBAN AGAIN!??!?!? SOB SOB SOB SOB BWWWWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!)

(Sorry, just venting.)

After being reprimanded for something, Jackson briefly spiraled into a self-pity party and wimpered ridiculous things like, "Fine...I guess you never want me to play my Nintendo again. EVER."

Well, that pushed my buttons, alright.

"Jackson," I declared, trying to remain calm, but secretly wanting to throttle him, "That is simply a LIE. That is not remotely what I said and you are choosing to feel sorry for yourself and say things that are NOT TRUE."

"Mama!" Lilly screams.

"We have to get out of the car and run away from Jackson!!!!"

"What?"

"Remember?! We are supposed to run away from sin and Jackson is lying, so we'd better start running."

"Good point, Lilly, but that is not always meant like literal running."

"But Mama, the Bible says we have to. Except, when you are alone because there is no one to run away from."

Then I brought to her precious little mind an incident from the not-so-distant past.

"What about if you are in your room alone with some markers and you are thinking about writing your name on your white nightstand, then blaming two year-olds who don't even know how to grip a pen, let alone spell L-i-l-l-y?"

"Well," she ponders, "I guess it would seem like there are two of me in the room and I'd just run away from my bad self while she colors on the nightstand. Although that would be pretty hard."

And I believe she just described the inner battle we all face every day.

Preach it, sister.