When Toddlers Teach Us About God’s Love
You would think after The Great Egg Incident of 2025 I’d have learned that silence is never golden with Monkey Boy. But nope—apparently, I’m still a rookie in the toddler chaos department.
I had taken the day off to take Bean Boy to his check-up and maybe sneak in some house cleaning. (You know, the glamorous PTO life of working moms. Forget beach trips or spa days—it’s doctor appointments, sick kids, and scrubbing toilets.)
The morning was already a marathon: grumpy toddler in tow, anxious preteen sighing his way through the appointment, and me stuck in a drama-filled insurance snafu that ended with a reschedule. By the time I dropped Bean back at school—with a McGriddle peace offering, of course—I was exhausted.
At home, I did what every mom does when the to-do list screams louder than her body: I went into the cleaning tunnel. That magical vortex where you move from one mess to the next like a cleaning zombie, fueled only by caffeine and frustration.
Monkey Boy was chilling in the living room with our dog, Zelda. She usually does a decent job of toddler-wrangling, but today? She clearly decided it was her union-mandated break.
I breezed through the room, glanced at the TV, and saw SpongeBob playing. All good. Then I looked down.
Aquaphor.
Everywhere.
Head to toe. Wall to wall. Monkey Boy was literally glistening like a buttered biscuit. And the dog? Just sitting there watching like, “Not my circus, not my monkey.”
It was a laugh-or-cry moment. Honestly, I did both. That was the third time I had cleaned that room. That day. I was overwhelmed, overstimulated, and bone tired.
But then Monkey Boy looked up, slipped around on his greasy little knees, and said in his sweet voice:
“I clean it. You help.”
As he grabbed my finger with his slippery hand, my heart melted.
How many times does God see us this way?
We make a mess. Sometimes the same mess. Again. He’s already cleaned it up before. And yet, when we finally look up and ask, “I clean it. You help?” His heart melts too.
The Bible says in Psalm 103:13-14:
“As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.”
He knows we’re messy. He knows we’ll slip up. And still, He loves us and helps us clean it up.
Or as 1 John 1:9 reminds us:
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
That day reminded me that while the messes are exhausting, they’re also holy. My child’s little plea—“I clean it. You help.”—isn’t so different from my whispered prayers.
And every time, just like me with Monkey Boy, my Heavenly Father scoops me up, smiles, and says, “Of course. Let’s clean this up together.”
With all that said: send prayers and diaper cream.
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