This evening I was washing some dishes before supper. Pippi was beside me, rinsing a plate or something before it went into the dishwasher. (That is not, I assure you, a standard, every-day procedure, which I state because I do want many of you to dine with us again.) I needed a dish towel from the drawer, or perhaps from upstairs. My hand were dripping. Alaina was busy elsewhere. I asked Pippi if she would get a towel for me, but she just looked at me quizzically, head cocked. No, our training has not progressed rapidly, and I did not expect she would comprehend, much less obey. But I thought I’d try.
But the thought made me think: I sure look forward to having some little ones around to whom I can say, “Hey, Frank, would you run get me a dish towel?” (Name used in this example is unlikely to actually be used :) The next thought followed quickly: regardless of whether our children are eight months or twenty-four months when they come home, it will be several years before they will be able to respond to such requests!
That thought in turn recalled to my mind one of my earliest (and fondest) childhood memories: the night Dad and Mom brought Peter home from the hospital. I was about two and a half, and was busily playing with my toys. I was thrilled to have a brother, and delighted that he was home from the hospital! Just like Dad, I had my warehouse and my forklift and was seriously moving pallets from one side to the other. I fully expected Peter to sit down and play with me. I just couldn’t figure out immediately why he wouldn’t or couldn’t. My disappointment did not, however, eliminate the excitement that the potential was there, and Peter was home from the hospital! In later years he did prove to be a great companion, always eager to play, but that was a few years down the road!