You know Jesus Christ, what do you think happened?

Every morning we had the same routine (barring any meltdowns). My son would shout me when he woke up – usually between 6.30am and 7am. If he hadn’t shouted by 6.45am my alarm went off and I would lay in bed for 5 minutes waking myself up. Once my son had shouted I would go into his bedroom and lay in bed with him for 5 minutes or so while he chatted to me. Often there were times when he would talk and talk and talk as though he had been holding it all in for 11 hours while he slept, or sometimes I wondered if he had been wondering about these things all night. Nothing would surprise me.

One morning we woke up and I got into bed with him for the allotted 5 mins and immediately he started talking….

“Can you see the brick wall out of that window through the door?”
“Can you do this with your hands?” (while showing me how he could hold one finger down and keep three fingers up).
“Cow ends with W not R, I keep getting them mixed up in phonics. Can you say R? Can you say W?”
“Fingers are your friends in phonics, are your fingers your friends? Lets try that thing with my hand again” (while showing me how he could hold one finger down and keep three fingers up).

And so on and so on. It went on and on and on. And I am most definitely not complaining because this was much more preferable than any distress and anger. But it was like verbal diarrhoea. We got up and still he continued talking. He had started wanting a hot water bottle making first thing because he was always complaining about his tummy hurting so we wandered into the kitchen together and I put the kettle on. All the while he was talking and spinning and jumping and telling me that there were 3 things that helped his poorly tummy.

1. Hot water bottle
2. A drink
3. Someone rubbing it

And while he gave me this list, he held one finger up to denote number 1, then two fingers up and so on. While he was chattering, I text my husband who was laid in bed listening “how much has he talked” and my husband replied with:

“Its really quite amazing how many questions and how much content he has to talk about immediately after getting up. He even has that much to talk about that he struggles to get it out in one sentence”.

And it was amazing. After about half hour he went on his iPad and I got my beloved cup of tea in the peace and quiet. The next morning the same routine started he shouted me, and I went and got into bed with him but this morning he was fairly quiet and I was wondering if he was building up to not wanting to go to school. But he surprised me when he asked…

“So you know Jesus Christ, what do you think happened there?”

He was of course talking about Jesus Christ from The Bible. At 6.50am on a morning. Straight after waking up. And we aren’t really religious, my kids are christened and I think I believe in something but not sure what so I don’t really give it much thought to be honest. So I don’t know that much about the story of Jesus. Or the Bible or anything like that. The extent of my religious knowledge is looking for a bible in the hotel room when I go away. But that seems to be a thing of the past nowadays. So I was honest and said well I don’t know that much about it actually. And my son said….

“Well on that special Friday is when he died then he rose up and came back to life.”

And as he said this he threw his arms in the air like he was rising up in the most dramatic and theatrical fashion I have ever seen. Then he asked….

“Can you come back to life?”

At 6.53am. Now I know he had been learning about Jesus previous to Easter but that was a while ago and this question came out of the blue first thing on the morning so there was nothing that prompted him to ask about what he had been learning about a few weeks previous. But it was a fairly apt question. Did my son know that I was currently trying to come back to life….metaphorically speaking. With every meltdown that we had had I picked myself back up, with every punch I had taken I picked myself back up, with every tear that I shed I picked myself back up and each time I picked myself back up there was a little bit less of me to pick up. Until there was almost nothing left. And I had to take drastic action. And so I was signed off work for 2 weeks to rest and regroup. I actually fought to the end on this on. I’m not one to give in, and I know technically it wasn’t giving in but it felt like it. Last Friday the doctor had suggested taking time off work but I was “fine”, I didn’t need that. I would be fine by Monday morning rolled round. My husband spent the weekend trying to persuade me to ring in sick and all weekend I said I would be fine, I could do this, ringing in sick wasn’t the answer. I had to keep going. But when Monday morning rolled round and I logged on to my laptop and immediately started crying I knew my husband was right (don’t tell him!) and I needed to ring in sick and that is what I did.

It amazed me that when i was on my last legs and trying to revive myself my son asked me about the most famous person who came back to life, almost as if he knows. He truly was one of the most amazing little people I knew.

So can you come back to life…..I really hoped so, Jesus did it in 2 days. It may take me longer but I am absolutely sure I can come back to life eventually.