The mind wanders this time of the morning.
Grazing here, munching there. Chewing the cud of memories.
No rush. No hurry.
The day with its responsibilities and challenges is still hours away.
And I'm thinking of the A&D Ointment debacle.
Huh.
Oh. I remember it well.
I was 4 and starting to feel that John-Wayne-male-urge for independence. And I picked a very stupid way to state it.
Kids get rashes.
I was particularly prone to "la rash de la poe-poe".
"C'mere," Mom would say as she put a big glob of the A&D on her finger, "Quit moving. Hold still and turn around."
One day I decided I was "grown up" and I didn't need Mom's help anymore with "la rash".
Jumping up and locking my arms on the sink, I shifted my weight to one arm and threw open the mirrored cabinet. Quickly I grabbed the white tube and hopped back down to the floor.
With an air of anticipation, I applied the creme in a glow of independence.
With a feeling of incineration, my eyes went wide as my feet started to dance around the bathroom.
To 4 year-old eyes, the white A&D Ointment tube looks just like the white Ben-Gay tube.
I am on fire.
Literally.
Intimate places, favorite places, are rapidly becoming charcoal.
The crescendo of my surprise brought Mom hurrying through the door where she saw her son trying to jump under the faucet in the sink, doing a kind of half-naked Fosbury Flop.
It's a good thing Mom arrived when she did.
My next option involved throwing back the toilet seat and doin' a cannonball.
Mom's eyes were squinted and her lips were pursed. I could tell she was feeling my pain as she made things better.
She quickly left to let me get dressed. Just I pulled up my pajamas I heard roars of parental laughter coming from the kitchen.
I remember wondering what was so funny.
Now, with decades of hindsight, I sit up a little straighter in the Chair, feeling uncomfortably warm.
Huh.
I don't know if I'll ever outgrow my childish idea that I can be independent. Especially from Him.
I know what I'm doing, so why bother Him.
I got this one.
No problemo.
And I end up getting burned in the end.
Some things look like good things - but they're not what I think they are.
A warning along those lines are in the Book.
"There is a way that looks right to a boy, but his end is charcoal."
Or something like that.