Oh!

My two year old woke up on the wrong side of bed yesterday.  He woke up ravenous and angry about that physical fact.  He slumped at the top of the stairs and cried until his brother picked him up and carried him down.  Once in the kitchen, he grabbed onto the high chair and sobbed plaintively until strapped in. 

Given his state, I opted to stay home with the littles and go to mass at five and immediately began fixing his breakfast. His dad left in a flurry of activity with six of the kids.  Meanwhile, Paul was still screaming with hunger. Quickly as possible, I toasted and buttered an english muffin, poured his soy milk in a sippy cup and placed it before him.  He immediately quieted down and I began to make his next older sister's breakfast. 

But then I noticed.  Paul wasn't eating.  He was staring at me.  He had his hands together and shook them at me.  "Oh!"  he said.

Sudden dawn in Mom's head.  "Blessing.  He wants Grace before meals."
"Blessed Our Lord for these thy gifts which we are about to receive through thy bounty, through Christ Our Lord. Amen."  He nodded his head, unfolded his hands and began eating.

Habbit?  Sure but also something deeper.  He had been starving.  He had been uncharacteristically angry and crying and FOOD was what he wanted more than anything else.  Yet this little two year old with developmental delays was willing to deny himself those few moments to pray. 

I finished making my daughter's and my own breakfast.  We sat down to eat with him.  He put his hands together again to make sure we got it. 

I got it. 

Oh!