"And those Mommies who..."

Turner's nighttime prayer was particularly entertaining tonight, not that his prayers are not normally enlightening (to how his brain works) or engaging (to see what he valued most from his day) or sweet (when he remembers the one person we forgot to call that day).

It is Saturday and Andy is at work. Turner and I venture to Sarah's party (a fellow RCTE-er; she had a in-rebellion-of-Valentine's Day Party). Sarah is well known, at least by people under four feet, to always have candy in bowls on short tables EVERYWHERE in her house. Oh, and she has a cat. What more could Turner possible want? Wait, I can't forget the room full of women who are kid-less and more than happy to compliment every hair on his head. Yeah so were are there and Turner comes into the kitchen with a chew. He sees me and grins, some kind of sticky something dripping out of his mouth. That's foreshadowing...

Turner wakes up from his nap to find me in the kitchen with a spoon and half a red velvet cake on a large cake plate; it was left over from Valentine's day and there are only so many people in this house to eat it. I can't deny hi;m a bite, so I make a deal with him. When we get to his party (b/c all parties are really for him and he ALWAYS asks where his balloon is), I tell him he can have one small treat only since he's stuffing red velvet cake in his mouth now. He agrees. I make the same deal with myself; we both cheat.

We pull into the parking lot at Sarah's. We have this new thing about going over the expectations in the car before we goin into some place. Two rules: Use manners. Ask before you put anything in your mouth. When we saunter into Sarah's apartment, Turner yells for everyone to check out his new tattoos. He spots a bowl of hearts and rushes to the table. "Can I have one?"
Sarah: "Of course!"
Me: "Turner...let's wait."
Turner: "Okay Mom." Wow.

Thirty minutes later I am in the kitchen eating pesto and bread while talking shop. Turner comes into the kitchen to report the latest cat activity from the living room (a step and a half away). He catches my eye and grins, stops talking, and looks at Sarah.
"What do you have in your mouth?"
"Ummm" the sticky something slips between the grin.
A female voice says Turner got some candy. He runs out of the kitchen and goes to the candy bowl. He spits the little heart into the bowl.
Six women cackle.
"Mom, can I put this in my mouth?"

In bed an hour later. I say "my prayer" (which I learned from Janice when I was a little girl): Good night dear Lord it is time to sleep. I pray that you will watch and keep your child all through the night. For Jesus' sake please wash away whatever has been wrong today and grant that 'till he wakes, he may be safe within Your sight.

Turner says his prayer, which is normally a mixture of "my prayer" and "Daddy's prayer" and whatever else he can think of to delay sleep. Tonight he says:
Good night Lord...sleep...and then keep...now I lay me down...and wash away...I wake...he's safe...keep...and wash away and um those guys and all those girls and we um where D [whom we had discussed on the way home when I told Turner we forgot to call CiCi]...and thank you...thank you for all those Mommies who let babies have mouths with candy. Amen.