Hey, Ma. This Song's for You.

I always cry when the Primary sings during Sacrament Meeting on Mother's Day. But today was the first time one of my own children's faces beamed at me from the stand. I don't think I ever grinned so big while I laugh/cried, watching that sweet face with those huge blue eyes and that little brown suit-coat that was still just slightly too big.

He mostly looked around with 'Well - I have no idea what we're all doing up here, but cool!" face. And when the sweet song heralding a mother's love was over and all the children began shuffling off the stage, I watched my son's little Sunbeam face say, 'okay, so what's going on now?'

For a moment, I worried he wouldn't know to follow the kids back to us. "Should I go get him?" asked Bill, thinking the same thing. We do that a lot, what with being so married and all. I nodded.

But then Wyatt fell in at the end of the line, and my little heart burst once again with glowy maternal pride.

He made it to the edge of the stage and stopped. Right before the stairs. He just stood in the corner and looked out at the congregation with eyes wide and wondering.

"Get him!" I whispered to Bill, who was already ducking out of his seat to bolt up to the stage.

Wyatt saw him coming, and ran the other way.

By this time, all the other grinning children had re-joined their families. So it was just my little Wyatt, running across the stage, and my poor husband, chasing him. The speakers and the bishopric chuckled from where they sat on the stand. There was a murmuring laugh that buzzed across the congregation. I stifled my own laughter, face flushing, and wondered with a pang of horror as Bill grabbed Wyatt, picked him up and began to carry him off the stage - would Wyatt protest?

Were we all about to witness a Wyatt Tantrum?

We came close. But then Bill turned to leave the stage, and Wyatt caught a glimpse again of the congregation and his eyes got all wide and thoughtful again. Disaster averted.

Well, all things considered.

I still can't believe sometimes that my precocious little Wyatt is 'that kid.' You know - the one who grabs the singing-time teacher's ankles as she's trying to teach because she has neat shoes, and runs across the stage in the middle of sacrament meeting - but I have to say. I'm beginning to really enjoy it.

Happy Mother's Day!