My Child's Prayer

I hope I always remember tonight.

We were putting Sam to bed, same routine as usual. Sam had a snack, we tag-team brushed his teeth, we read scriptures: Sam always wants to read a story about a boat.

After reading about Nephi building the ship, he wanted another story. A specific story. He flipped through the pages until he found the story of Abinadi teaching King Noah. He pointed to Abinadi; I said he was a prophet named Abinadi. He pointed to King Noah; I said he was a wicked king named Noah. Then he pointed to Alma; I asked Sam who it was: "Almo." I told a brief version of the story, with Sam interjecting details I left out: "don't touch", "'Bindi", "bad". Then Sam pointed to the picture of Abinadi's martyrdom, saying "uh-oh". (I'm always a little nervous with such tough topics.)

Sorry, I got a bit a sidetracked from the original story I wanted to tell. I was just so impressed with Sam's recall of the story. Remembering the characters, the part where Abinadi tells the servants not to touch him, the sadness of his death. The amount of information that he can take in and recall seems to have tripled lately. He repeats every new word you tell him, he narrates what he is doing, he asks questions (more where's and what's then why's...though I know the day is coming).

Anyway...

Then it was time for prayer. Andrew asked Sam to say the prayer. Sam knelt at my knees and began:

"Hev Fadder, great full play Lily. Play Ashley. Play Joe. Happy. Bless Daddy. Mommy. Sam. Name Jeshus Amen." **

I was amazed. I knelt there listening to my little baby pray all by himself. He has prayed before, even surprised me with his additions of "please watch movie" or "bless Daddy" during prayers at breakfast. But this was all him, from beginning to end. Completely unguided and unprompted. (Granted there was a decent amount of jabber I didn't catch, repeats, and yes, he was standing on his head for part of it.)

People always say how short and precious this time is, when your kids are young and learning so quickly. People always say it goes by too fast. People say you forget too much too quickly--or completely fail to notice the priceless moments amidst the mundane. People talk about the sleepless nights, the dirty diapers, the juice spills, the tantrums.

Why don't people talk about the moments like this? When you're blessed to witness the moment your well-intentioned-but-always-lacking guidance takes effect. When you glimpse the beauty and power and perfection of the sweet spirit you've been blessed to have in your home. When you're struck (again) by the awesome responsibility to teach, to lift, to ... do so much more than you've been doing, even though you've tried.

Why don't we talk more about those moments? Is it that they are so personal we don't want to let them out to be seen, judged, disregarded? Is it that they are so perfect we don't want them tainted by day-to-day conversation? Or is it that, in the rush of all the other moments, these silver sands of time are lost in the dust and crumbs and mud of everyday parenthood?

Not this one.

**For those that need a translation: "Heavenly Father, I'm grateful that I could play with Lily today. And Ashley and Joe. Bless us to be happy and healthy and safe (a phrase that has slipped into our prayers). Please bless Daddy and Mommy and Sam. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."