Today, we had the pool liner installed, and with it came the end of a stressful renovation… at least I hope so.
Mostly for Robert.
I say that with a smile because my husband thinks… a lot. His brain is always solving problems, asking questions, and trying to think five steps ahead. Sometimes I wonder if it ever gives him a break.
Which might be why Jonah reminds me so much of him.
Today, while Robert handled the contractors, Jonah and I climbed into the hammock outside with Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Before I knew it, we’d read four chapters.
Well… sort of.
Every couple of minutes I’d get interrupted.
Not because he was bored.
Because he had questions.
“What happened to the wardrobe door?”
“Why can’t Edmund find it?”
“If the door disappeared, then how did Lucy get back in Chapter 2?”
I kept trying to explain that it was dark where the wardrobe door was, so the children were following the light farther into Narnia. But that answer wasn’t good enough.
He just couldn’t make it make sense.
When we finished reading, we walked inside to eat the watermelon we’d cut together earlier that day. Well… the watermelon I’d cut after Jonah insisted I practice first because he wanted perfect squares.
As we were eating, he was still talking about the wardrobe.
“I just don’t understand it,” he said again.
His brain simply wouldn’t let it go.
Watching him smile, think, and wrestle with that question reminded me of something that had happened just a few days earlier.
According to my Oura ring, I’d gotten two hours and twenty minutes of sleep that night.
I stumbled out of my bedroom into the living room, which is completely unlike me because I usually head straight for the coffee pot. I looked around, sighed, and wondered how I was supposed to function through the day.
Then I noticed Jonah had slept on the couch.
I hate when they do that.
I’m not particular about much, but every time one of the kids sleeps on the couch, all I can think about is them wearing it out. Maybe it’s because a couch practically has to be falling apart before Robert agrees it’s time to buy another one.
Still half asleep, I yawned and said, “Buddy, I am so tired.”
He looked at me.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I sighed.
“Yes, Jonah.”
“Never mind.”
The little disappointment in his voice immediately made my mom guilt kick in.
“Just ask.”
“No. It’s okay.”
“Jonah,” I said, “please don’t do this. I’m too tired. Just tell me.”
Finally, he blurted out,
“I just don’t understand why they made white chocolate. It’s pointless.”
I stared at him for a second.
Then I laughed.
Because honestly… I had absolutely no answer.
Later that morning, Robert finally woke up.
He’d been quiet for days, and I knew something was bothering him.
“You care to tell me what’s stressing you?” I asked.
“The renovation.”
“I just can’t stop my brain.”
Then it all started coming out.
“I wonder if they put concrete under the pool stairs.”
“I wonder if the scratches on the pool steps could cause a leak.”
“I forgot to see how thick the concrete is where we’re putting the fireplace.”
“What if it won’t hold it?”
Question after question after question.
I reminded him that we’d hired contractors because this is what they do every day.
Then I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?” he asked.
“You know who you sound like?”
He looked at me.
“Jonah.”
Then I told him about my two hours of sleep, stumbling into the living room before coffee, and Jonah’s urgent question that absolutely could not wait.
“I just don’t understand why they made white chocolate.”
Robert burst out laughing.
Today, lying in that hammock, listening to Jonah work through every possible explanation for the wardrobe door, I found myself smiling again.
I’d already realized it a few days ago.
Jonah thinks just like his dad.
One wonders whether there’s enough concrete under the pool stairs.
The other wonders why Edmund couldn’t find the wardrobe door.
Both of them will chase a question until they’ve exhausted every possibility.
And honestly…
I wouldn’t have either one of them any other way.
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