Ever wondered what it would feel like to interact and live with yourself?

I promise it’s not as pleasant as you think. Just have a child. Who is a lot like you.

There’s nothing quite like watching a toddler (arguably the rawest form of humanity) act out your personality and behaviors without any regard for the situation. A two-year-old mad about a red light lasting too long is a pretty good reminder that I still have a LONG way to grow in the realm of patience. The frustration with a puzzle after 2 minutes reminds me that I’ve never been patient with myself when learning something new. Brothers yelling at each other reminds me that I need to control my temper, being long-suffering in patience and love and grace.

And there’s the way he refuses to talk to a stranger or feels overwhelmed by too many people. There’s a new-found parroting of every word I say, the singing of the music on the radio, the wanting to watch what I’m watching.

There’s nothing quite like the accountability of a child, your child.

In our house, we’re all imperfect people, and no amount of effort will change that. But being faced with the mirror of yourself in your child’s blue eyes every single day will certainly make areas of needed growth vastly more apparent.

In Christian circles, we often talk about accountability partners. This usually means meeting once a week or so and confessing your own crap.

But what if your accountability partner lived in your house? Even more since spouses do this, what if your accountability partner was a sponge watching you to learn how to handle himself and his surroundings?

Yikes.

Exactly. Talk about conviction.

All my life I’ve prayed for patience. And God said, ‘Oh just wait. I have little boys in store for you.’

And while they’re at it, they’ll be the refining fire that makes you realize that you not only need more patience but also grace, silliness, humility, confessing, and just about a million other positive attributes that you daily fail to live out.

The other day, Bronson told Ryan that he hurt his ears when he yelled at Oli. Later that day, Bronson told Oliver and I to stop fighting with each other.

Now he’s added words to his armor of conviction.