Nothing Lasts Forever...

It's a phase. How many times have you said that about your kids' goofy obsessions? You know, like when they refuse to eat bananas without dipping them in ketchup (Micah) or insist on buying all their clothes from the boys' department (Molly)?

I thought it might be fun to share a few other "phases" my children eventually grew out of...

The Molly Jasmine phase ...

Molly's devotion to Princess Jasmine was a bit cult-like. The world would stop when a Jasmine cartoon or commercial came on. Every birthday and Christmas list was dominated by Jasmine paraphenalia. I think she became convinced that WWJD stood for "What Would Jasmine Do?"

We nearly had to shut down Walmart one day when she lost her favorite Jasmine figurine. (She was never found. Sigh. Tragedy.) One year, we bought her Jasmine slippers and she wore those things until nearly every last regal sequin fell off.

The Molly Tomboy Phase ...

After the somewhat creepy Jasmine obsession, we were a bit perplexed by the phase that followed. Overnight, she rejected everything girly. She started raiding her brother's closet. She despised pink. Her uniform became sloppy T-shirts, basketball shorts and anything camoflague. And I'm not talking about the cute, girly-looking camoflague that was so popular. No. I'm talking about the "ship me to basic training" kind of Army gear.

The Micah Megaphone Phase...

Micah likes to talk. ALOT. In fact, you would be hard-pressed to find someone who enjoys the sound of their own voice more than my son. He can out-talk any female in our house by a country mile. So what do you do for a kid like that? Why buy him a megaphone for Christmas, of course.

What possessed us to do this? Well, he's awfully darn cute. And he loved playing "Parent Pickup Line" where he imitated the safety patrol kids shouting out kids' names when their parents came to pick them up from school. We even bought him the orange cones. Wouldn't that be adorable?? In a word? No.

Perhaps if he had stuck with his "Parent Pickup" schtik it would have been fine. But nooooo... soon all communication occurred through the megaphone. (And we couldn't have anticipated this because ....???) "MOM, CAN I PLEASE HAVE PANCAKES FOR BREAKFAST?!!" "MOM, MOLLY IS BOTHERING ME." You get the idea.

The Micah "I am clueless about sports" Phase ...

Not being into sports is just not an option in our house. Not when you have a father who lives and breathes it, who was a NCAA Track and Field letter winner. Nope. You'd better hit the ground with cleats on in our house.

Early on, Micah didn't get the memo. Notice how he and his little soccer friend Brooke are standing, fingers to their mouths, thinking, "Um, what do we do?"

In fact, he and Brookie got into lots of trouble that season. They adored each other. Not a problem ... unless the referee has to stop the game to break up the unbridled affection (hugging so enthusiastically that they knock themselves over and roll around on the field in the middle of a game) between them.

Mike's response: "When, in the history of athletics, has a player had to be benched for a hugging violation??!" Not exactly a sports dad's proudest moment. (Micah has since redeemed himself athletically.)

For the most part, these were cute phases. You know, the kind you look back at and say, "Remember when you used to ______________?" And then you both shake you head and laugh at the good ol' days.

Not all phases, though, produce rip-roaring belly laughs. Sometimes, a phase can be so difficult you wonder if you'll both come out of it alive. And sane.

I'm facing a few like that right now. But it's helped to reflect on these and other stages that they've been through. Phases I thought would never end. But they did. A blip on the screen of their childhood, just part of the wonderful, agonizing business of growing up.

And I gain perspective -- and God-given patience.

Nothing lasts forever, after all. And sometimes that's sad. And sometimes it's a very good thing.

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1