He’s Got It All

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law are out of town. They left my wife and I in charge of their six kids. Well, truthfully, their oldest is actually running the show. I’m just the adult in the room in case something high needs reaching or heavy needs lifting – and that’s about it.

While the oldest walked the other five through the bedtime routine, I sat on their couch and strummed a toy guitar. Sosy, the youngest, sat beside me with her fabulous Diana Ross hair and sang loudly and badly. It’s not her gift. But her lyrics are dead on.

I pressed the strings down with my left hand and she strummed them with her right.

“He’s got the whole world in His hands,” I sang. And then “He’s got all the monkeys in His hands…” Followed by “He’s got all the lions in His hands…”

“What’s next?” I asked. “Snails? Butterflies? Hippos?”

Her eyes widened. “I know!” she said. “Windows!”

Not exactly what I was hoping for but “windows” we sang. “He’s got all the windows…”

“He’s got all the footballs…”

“He’s got all the brothers…”

“He’s got all the stars…”

Then it got ugly.

“He’s got all the booties…”

Well, He does.