Whats that Smell? (Part One)

 

A single sun ray pierces my kitchen window. From the magnificent brilliance in the sky, through sparse clouds, streaming between two tall houses, this one single ray made its way through the kitchen window to pool on my granite kitchen countertop. Sparkles that I didn’t even know were there glinted and winked at me. Even in the darkest parts of the world, the sun, The Son, brings light and it causes hidden things to dance. What joy this season brings when  Christ our Savior-

“Mom, something doesn’t smell right in here.”

 

Total holy moment, disrupted.

 

My PJ clad princess is standing there, mug, spoon and napkin in hand. We had oatmeal this morning. Daddy’s gone this week to fabulous adventures in India, so we’re doing special things here at the house. Special like eating oatmeal out of coffee mugs and staying up “late” watching Christmas movies and eating popcorn.

 

She scrunches up her nose.

 

“Mom, REALLY. It smells GROSS.”

 

I hear the clank, clank of spoon on glass as Josh is still eating his mug-o-oatmeal in the next room.

 

“I know sweetie, it’s the trash can. I’ll empty it when I finish the dishes here. Hand me your mug, please, and throw away your napkin.”

 

The trash can was full. It’s been full for about a day now. But since Matthew, The Preacher, is on his fabulous adventure in India, it hasn’t been taken out. It’s his job. I know at some point I will actually have to empty it. But I just hadn’t. Yet.

 

Instead, a plastic bag from the grocery store will have to do, perched on top of the trashcan. There were already a number of items in on the impromptu trash bag. The cups and straws etc., from our meal last night from Hardee’s, banana peels, used tea bags, several instant coffee packets. It was sitting on top of the full but closed trashcan.

 

She hands me the mug and spoon. We catch eyes and she smiles. I smile back, my heart nearly bursting to tears, overwhelmed by this six year old gift. She is delightful.

 

Then she scrunches up her face and cocks her head to one side. And now she is evil.

 

“Haha! I finished by oatmeal WAY before Joshy!”

 

Apparently evil has taken over my precious-one-second-ago daughter.

 

Eye roll. Seriously? Sigh. Yes, she is a gift. A trying gift.

 

“Bah. Be nice. Throw your napkin away then go get dressed.”

 

She turns to the trash can. Ah, the trash can.

 

Let’s think this over. Full trash can. Plastic bag of last nights trash sitting on top. Hmm, where should the napkin go? In the can (that the bag is sitting on top of) or in the bag?

 

With a dainty step, she sets her toe on the lever on the bottom of the can and with a little creak and crunch the lid goes up and the plastic bag, the impromptu trash bag, topples to the floor. Leftover orange soda, tea bags and other goes-in-the-trash-never-to-be-seen-or-touched-again things spill out and onto the floor.

 

“Um, Mom? There’s a mess here now,” she says as she turns and walks towards the kitchen door.

 

I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation. It wasn’t pretty.

 

“Mom, it smells in here,” says the last of the oatmeal eaters. My eight-year-old Super Man walks towards me, mug and spoon in hand.
He stops mid-kitchen and makes a face.

“Ew! What is that smell?!”

 

Good grief.

 I look at the counter. Can I have my holy moment back please?

Nope.

 

The spot of sunshine is gone now. Now all I can see is a layer of crumbs.

 

The trash is cleaned up, the kids  sent up to get dressed and brush their teeth. I take in the kitchen, analyzing the remaining dishes, mentally making a checklist of what needs to happen before tonight’s Bible Study.