Grapes of Wrath

Today, over lunch, I had a conversation with my 21-month old.

Like as if I was on the phone.

But instead of my iPhone up to my ear, I was holding

A grilled cheese sandwich.

It was a meager attempt to get him to actually eat it.

Five minutes later,

Its pieces and crumbs marked a greasy 2-foot radius around his high chair.

Wee One = 1 
Mom's "Creative Parenting" = 0

Five minutes before the grilled cheese struggle, I had been updating myself on the mess that is our modern, global society.

My confused and concerned thoughts about social unrest, vulgarity on stage, looming attacks and about how I am ever going to successfully navigate parenthood in this environment were interrupted by my son's signature,

"Mama! Tssaaat?!"

For those of you who don't speak 21-monthese allow me to translate:

"Mom, what's that?!"

I looked down.

He was pointing to a dissected grape on his plate.

"It's a grape," I replied. 

"Can you say, grape?"

Then, as his chocolate brown eyes--that melt me every time--looked right at me, something pierced me.

Something like a still, small voice.

And I had the profound thought:

The world may be falling apart, but having this conversation about grapes is the most important thing you could be doing at this very moment in time.  Do this well, and all will be well.

And, even though there's only so much one can say about a cross section of the fruit of the vine, I've got to believe that someday, when our conversations take a much more serious turn to good, evil and the choices we make between the two, if I've done this well...all will be well.