Stuck

This morning while trying to fold laundry

the baby was out of sight

for a few minutes.

She began hollering.

I ran to the rescue.

She had climbed onto the kitchen table.

My last post makes this story even funnier.

This morning someone had left the maple syrup

in the middle of the table.

Of course that is Caroline's spot.

I assume she had climbed up to claim it back.

In her 16 month old mind

I guess she decided to take that syrup out.

Out of the bottle to be exact.

The table had a healthy layer of syrup

across it's whole surface.

And of course Caroline

had it all over herself too.

She was hollering because she didn't know

how to get out of the mess.

If she moved, she would stick in place.

I scooped her up and put her in the bathtub.

Clothes, shoes and all.

I'm experienced like that.

We got the job done.

Caroline was stick free.

The clothes were in the dirty laundry pile.

And the shoes were washed out.

The table was also scrubbed

to shine.

Now that Carline is down for a nap,

I've had a minute to reflect

on my relatively unproductive day.

About how this little incident

parallels my life right now.

I feel stuck in the middle

of a lot of sticky goo.

No matter where I choose to move to

or even if I choose to sit,

it's still not fun.

And I want to holler out for help.

I wish someone would scoop

me up and throw me in the bath.

And then clean up all the messes.

And then I remember that I am 37 years old

in three days.

And no longer 16 months old.

And I have to find my own way

out of messes.

Even if I don't like syrup

and would have never

spread it across my living space.

I need an

Aunt Jamima size miracle.

And I am sure that God will deliver.

Because I am his 16 month old

who cries out of help.

Even when I am 36 and 362 days.