Thread: Does God Wear Pajamas

DOES GOD WEAR PAJAMAS? (a true story)

Jeffy is normally an exciting, exuberant, let’s have us a great time, three year old. Always beaming a big, toothy, smile and full of love and affection. He is also a “GET BACK IN THAT BED, BUSTER!” and “NO, MOMMY DOESN’T NEED ANOTHER KISS!” kind of guy. It would be easy to accumulate hundreds of kisses at one bedtime if I let him. I have to admit, this was a great way to postpone the inevitable beddy- bye time because mother’s can’t refuse kisses, now can they? It took me a while to get wise to that little ploy.

On this particular night Jeffy was sick. He was lethargic and dragged around all day, fever, throwing up and needing lots loving care from me. At bedtime, I put him down, gave him cuddles and kisses and held a cool wash cloth to his forehead. I warbled his favorite little songs and lullabies, soothing him as best I could.

“No more singing, mommy.” he whined, holding his ears as if in pain, “You sing too much.” He brushed his fingers over his eyebrows to indicate for me to rub them. “Tickle my ass lasses."

“Okay, sweetie.” I began to run my fingers over his eyebrows, hoping he would fall asleep. “You know, honey,” I cooed, feeling so sorry for my poor baby. “God doesn’t want his little boy to be sick. He wants you to be all better. God loves you so much.”

“I’m Gods little boy?” he asked incredulously. “Is God my daddy?”

Uh, oh, I thought. I’m in trouble.

“Umm, uh, yes.” I replied. “He is everybody’s’ Daddy.” I felt kinda squirmy. I could envision all the questions that he was about to roll over me like a long freight train. I was becoming deeply mired-- again.

“Where is he?”

Yep, here comes the train. “Everywhere.” I said. “He’s watching over you. Wants you to get well.” Oh no, I shouldn’t have said that, either.

“I don’t see him.” He looked suspiciously around the room.

“Well, he’s here. You just can’t see him. Now, honey, go to sleep. Night, night.” I was trying my best to change the subject and make a quick escape. I sidled closer to the bedroom door.

“Mommy. Come back!” He held out his arms, so I went begrudgingly back for another lovely hug and kiss.

“Is God in my bed?”

“Yes, he is, and he wants you to be quiet and go to sleep, RIGHT NOW, so you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Where is he in my bed?”

I pointed to a spot next to him. “Right there. NOW GO TO SLEEP! “

The” question train” was rolling over me and could not be derailed. The whistle was blaring. I tried, once more, to make the quick exit, but he called out again.

“Do he have on pee-yamas?”

“YES, yes he does have on pajamas. Night, night Jeffy. Go to sleep.”

“What color are they?”

“BLUE!” I practically screamed.

“Okay.” he said. Then, snuggling down under the covers, facing in God’s direction, he whispered, “You better go to sleep now, God, ‘cause Mommy’s getting mad.”

Alrighty then, I thought. Sweet peace. I hot- footed it back into the living room to settle down and watch something grown-up on television, when I heard little foot- steps padding toward me.

“Excuse me, mommy.” he squeaked. His eyes big and round like chocolate drops, “Um, God said you forgot to kiss him goodnight.”

This is so cute! Being a mum I can totally relate to those squirmy feelings.
They are just walking question marks.
Enjoyed it and thought it was well written.

I have so been there, Sondra. This put a big smile on my face and brought back so many memories.

I've never been a mommy, for obvious reasons, but I have been a daddy putting a three-year-old to sleep. No hugs and kisses, but lots of 'why do nails have heads', 'why did the man put rocks in the cement', 'how does the water get in the faucet', 'why dosen't the 'lectricity run out on the floor when I unplug something'. He would ask questions as long as I was willing to sit by his bed and answer.

I would always give him age-appropriate answers for three or four of the night's questions. Then when he asked his next question I would start a long technical explanation which would put him out in about one minute. Curiously enough there were many mornings when he would show up at the breakfast table next morning with follow-up questions that indicated he had heard and absorbed more of what I had said in that last answer than I would have thought possible for a three-year-old. So be careful with those answers. They understand more than we give them credit for.

Hi Apple, this gave me a warm cozy feeling. It is a wonderful piece of writing.

This was really cute and innocent. I loved the kid. An easy and interesting read. The incident will stay in my mind for a long time and bring a smile to my face

I must say that I found this piece of yours simply because I liked your avatar pic so much (who is the artist?)

But I'm glad I did, because this was so delightful and sweet - I have kiddos around this age, and they certainly have an innocent take on the world - I love that about children - wish I could hold onto a bit of that myself

I was thinking when I was reading it that the title gave away the surprise punchline, which is funny itself, but that was to set up the added line at the end which was a very touching surprise - kudos on the technique there

your writing here is so fluid and crisp, and real - very effective for telling this story - you've made a wonderful keepsake for your son for later.

---todd

Originally Posted by garza

Then when he asked his next question I would start a long technical explanation which would put him out in about one minute. Curiously enough there were many mornings when he would show up at the breakfast table next morning with follow-up questions that indicated he had heard and absorbed more of what I had said in that last answer than I would have thought possible for a three-year-old. So be careful with those answers. They understand more than we give them credit for.

When my now 45-year-old daughter was 3 or 4, I was telling her a story. I had a pencil in my hand, which I dropped on the tiled breakfast-room floor, breaking its point.

‘B-U-G-G-E-R,’ I said.

Quick as a flash, and with a cheeky grin, my daughter responded.

‘Bugger,’ she said.

Now how did that happen?

apple this is such a wonderful, light-hearted story! Thank you for sharing it.

I have a similar story to Ox. I went to fetch my boyfriend's kids from Nursery School one afternoon and whilst driving home a taxi pulled out in front of me. I braked and under my breath went "FFFFFF...." Remembering that the kids were in the car, I stopped at 'F'. Within a second, the little 4 year old boy piped up saying "You said f**k". Knowing full well that I hadn't said it, I looked him straight in the eyes and said "No I didn't. Where did you hear that word from?". He started giggling and accused me again of saying it. I was so concerned that he would tell Dad when he got home that I was swearing like a trooper in the car, that as soon as I got home I went running to my boyfriend before I could be tittle-taled on.

Writing this little story down - I am starting to wonder who behaved more like the child

That child was so cute, I wish all childeren were as innocent as that. :3