On the Lighter Side: Breakfast with Landon

About two months ago I moved in with some friends who have three kids: a six-year old, a three-year old, and and eight month old. The first month I spent mostly traveling around out in Oregon and Idaho, and they spent a week in Ohio. The last month though I've been settling into the new routine of a new job, and what it's like to go from living by myself (for the last five years, minus six months hanging out with my buddy Tom) to being part of an instant family of five (six counting me; nine if you count the cats. Oh yeah, and there's the lizard in the basement).

I've been pretty close to this family since I was in college. I stood as best man in the wedding, was roommates with the dad in college, was friends with the mom, was sleeping at their house the night their oldest son was born, and was able to stay a few extra months in Illinois as their second son was born before I headed off to Michigan. I've been getting to know the newest member of the family, a girl with really beautiful blue eyes and a melt-your-heart smile, and I'd count myself really blessed. I've been dubbed the unofficial "uncle," though the three-year-old, Landon, is still trying to figure that one out.

I get up early to try to have breakfast and be out of the house and on my way to work before the rest of the family gets up. Sometimes that works. Usually it doesn't. Landon's an early riser too, and often will come downstairs as early as 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning, shuffling across the floor to grab a package of cheese and crackers out of the pantry before shuffling back up to bed where he eats quietly and waits for his brother and the rest of the family to wake up.

A couple weeks ago I got up at 6:30, thinking I'd eat breakfast and do some reading while it was still quiet, but right as I turned the corner I heard small feet right behind me. I stumbled around looking for the coffee filter, still feeling fuzzy, which Landon saw as a moment to begin our early morning conversation. Here's how it went:

Landon: Do you have a house?
Me: No.
Landon: Do you have a woman?
Me: Um, no. Do you want some cereal?
Landon: Yeah.

I was laughing, but wanted to give him something else to do because I didn't know where the conversation was heading.

Even though he's three, his parents like to nickname him the "Old Man," because you never know what's going to come out next from Landon's mouth. Sometimes it's sage wisdom several times beyond his years, sometimes just really quirky, and sometimes so hilarious that he makes us hurt we're laughing so hard. One day he fell and hurt his leg and told his mom he had to go to church.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I need to ask God something."
"You can do it here," she said. "You don't have to go to church every time you want to talk to God."

This morning I was in the kitchen again by 6:30, had just started the coffee and was getting ready to pour myself a bowl of Healthy Hearty Crunchy cereal of some kind; basically, colon blow twigs and flakes. I heard the song of feet on wooden floor and Landon rounded the corner, wearing a diaper.
"Are you my uncle?" he asked.
"Yep. Do you want some cereal?"
"Yeah, I want that kind," he said, pointing to the Healthy Hearty cereal you only eat after you're thirty.
"I don't think you'll like it."
"Uh huh."
"Okay, you can try it." So I poured him enough cereal to cover the bottom of his Spider-man bowl, added a few cranberries so it would match what I was eating, and added milk. Then I waited for the taste test.
*Crunch crunch crunch* went Landon. "I like it, I like it!" Give it to Landon, he'll eat . . . very little except the stuff you least expect.

So we sat down together, Landon and I, at the breakfast table at 6:30 in the morning, me with my bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, he with his Spider-man bowl of old man cereal that matched the old man cereal being eaten by Uncle Cliff. And then the questions started.

"Is this church?"
"The house?"
"Yeah, is the house church?"
"Sometimes. I guess it could be. Does God live here?"
"No."
"Sure he does. He lives here."
"Jesus lives here."
"Okay. Yeah, Jesus lives here."
"But Ike's not Jesus."
"No, your brother's not Jesus."

I never know what's going to come out of that boy's mouth, or where our conversations are going to go over breakfast at 6:30 in the morning, but I've begun to really value the time we have together, talking, over a bowl of cereal while the rest of the house, and the world for that matter, is still sleeping in silence. It seems to be our time, with no distractions, no need to share time and attention with a brother and sister or things that have to be done. It's nice.

And I'm learning some things from my time with him, and laughing a whole lot. Someday we won't have conversations quite like this, but I hope we still talk, and I'm trying to start early at building that relationship so when he's older and Uncle Cliff is no longer cool and there are girls in his life and sports, and friends who are grabbing for his attention, that he'll still want to come sometimes to talk over a bowl of cereal, or maybe someday a cup of coffee (not now. "Coffee is for grown ups, not little boys").

His mom came downstairs this morning and said, "You've heard of the book Tuesdays with Morrie. Well, I guess this is Breakfast with Landon." Yeah, I thought, I like that.