Nesting Dolls and Two Year Olds

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I love my Russian nesting dolls. They bring back memories of Russia where I taught English and served a mission. Each one I have brings back a memory of where and how I found it.

I used to have them all over my house…and then (drum roll) my son turned two!!! For those who have never had a two year old, there is nothing that you can hide from them. They have the nose of a bloodhound from a 1940’s mystery novel. Their agility defies Tarzan, and their deduction skills are Sherlock Holmes status, and their grace and ability to handle things carefully makes Godzilla look like a ballerina!!

There is one nesting doll that I truly do love. She is red, hand painted, and I bought her from a gypsy living along the metro tunnels-let us take a moment and acknowledge how cool that sounds. A gypsy living in the metro tunnels. There is a story begging to be written about that.

She is my gem and my son wants her soooooo bad. He calls nesting dolls babies and finds them fascinating. It does not matter that I have bought him flamboyant plastic ones. No, he wants the handmade, hand painted Russian ones. I have moved her on the top book shelves, the piano, in a closet, everywhere! No matter what, my sweet son finds her. Slowly her pieces have been scattered beneath couches, behind the TV and stuffed in the laundry.

Today I realized that my son was going to hurt himself trying to get this nesting doll. So finally, I pulled her off the shelf sat down with him and said;

“This baby is very important to me, please be careful!”

With delight and gusto he took the nesting doll, calling her baby and began taking the pieces apart while I carefully monitored him.

It was this experience that got me thinking about how our Heavenly Father feels when he sends us special babies, siblings, friends, and loved ones. Does he look at me with my many imperfections and vices and whisper “This baby, this child, this beloved creation of mine, is very important to me, please be careful.”

Sometimes like my son, I am not always careful even when I try to be. Other times I am extremely so. I try my hardest to be the best mother, to be a good friend-even then I know I fall short. However, instead of putting people out of reach, as I do with the nesting dolls, Heavenly Father gives us chance after chance. He teaches us to be careful and mindful.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to be a mother, for the countless times I have made silly mistakes and can ask for forgiveness.

Right now my baby girl is asleep on my chest, my son has sneaked out of bed to watch American Ninja Warrior with his father, and I am feeling to sappy to tell him to go back to bed. Tomorrow I will start teaching him how to be soft with the nesting dolls, but for now…they are back on the shelf!

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