Shoulder Slobber


As I sat in Sunday school, I watched my friend Jonny Moon pull out a burp cloth from his diaper bag and wipe baby slobber from the shoulder of his nice black suit. His beautiful red-headed new-born, with dimples that never end, had just left a memento of the bond they share on his shoulder. After putting her gently back in the baby carrier, he ardently tried to remove the blemish from his Armani. Although he was trying to look nice by scrubbing his shoulder, I found myself longing for a spot of spittle myself. I wished for a goober of my own. My youngest is now three and because she is mobile I don’t get the same number of opportunities to hold her as I used to, which means not as many spots.

I didn’t always have this longing for crusties on my  clothing. When Nicole and I were first married, I would wear my suit to an “important” meeting with “important” people only to find out after the meeting was over that I had smears of slobber streaked down my shoulder. I would feel embarrassed and a little frustrated that the blob of baby blubbering made me look less professional. I would get tired of sending my suit to the dry cleaners repeatedly.

My tune has changed. Instead of embarrassment and frustration I see reminders of a sweet baby that shares a special bond with me. I have to admit that I have left a few less conspicuous patches of love on my dress clothes longer than a “professional” should. Spots left on my clothes as a reminder throughout my day that there is a little girl at home eagerly waiting to run into my arms with screams of excitement when I walk through the door. When I see PB&J that was transferred from her cheeks to my clothes it reminds me that each of my kids also ran into my arms until they grew to big.  Each time I see a dab of dried drool it reminds me that every night I have a package of love bundled up in pink piggy pajamas who smiles as I move her head from my shoulder to her pillow. It reminds me that I need to take every opportunity to hold her tightly before she grows up. It reminds me that I don’t have much time left to pick her up and squeeze her tight, give her “Ba-Dumps” up the stairs, and rest her sleepy head on my shoulder…

…even if it means a smear of slobber on my suit.

Theme: TheBuckmaker.com Professional WordPress Themes | Webhost rating, InterTech Blog