Trading for a Kitten

Bee and I play a game of sorts.  She asks me what I would trade her for. 

"A house?" She asks. 

"No.  Not a million houses.  I wouldn't trade you for anything," I reply.

"Would you trade me for a new car?" she wonders.

"No, I wouldn't trade you for a car.  Not a million cars.  I wouldn't trade you for anything." I go on, "I wouldn't trade you for anything or anyone--not a million little girls or boys.  I wouldn't trade you for ANYTHING." 

She laughs with delight.

Yesterday she said, "Mom, there is one thing I would trade you for."  (Yes, improper English with a preposition on the end of the sentence, but it's what she said.)

"Really?" I question, "What?"

"A kitten," she says.

"Really?  A kitten?"  I am in disbelief.  Surely not.

"Yep," she answers.

"So you would really rather have a kitten than me?"

"Yes."

My feelers are hurt.  She would trade me for a kitten.  She's serious.  She doesn't really knows what she's saying does she?

"So if I died and you had a kitten that would be okay?"

"Well, yeah."

Seriously?  She has no idea.  I know she has no idea what that would mean.  She says she wouldn't miss me.  She's not saying it like a rebellious teenager, but like a little kid who wants a kitten.  I try to reason with her.

"Okay, so who would kiss your ouchies and take you to dance class?  Who would feed you food, cook with you and give you snacks?"  (I think I threw in a few more things, but I don't remember them now.)

"Daddy," she replies quickly.  Too quickly.

I tell her how it makes me feel that she would want to trade me for kitten.  Bailey comes to the rescue, thinking I'm going to cry, she exclaims, "Mommy!  I'll take you!  Don't cry, Mama!" 

After thanking Bailey, I return to Brooklyn, "Don't you know how that makes me feel, Brooklyn?  That you would be okay with letting me go for a kitten?"

"I think I'm beginning to see what you mean," she says, but it's obvious she hasn't really changed her mind.  She comes to give me hug.  It doesn't make me feel better.

As a mother, I would do anything for my kids.  So how could she say that? 

And it came to me.  I've said it.  Over and over to the One who loves me more than I love my kids.I have said a kitten is more desirable than God. I have wanted a kitten. A kitten is cute, cuddly and never asks me to do anything. I can control a kitten.  Like a 5 year old who thinks a kitten would be more desirable than a mom, I have believed a possession, a position or a relationship is more desirable than God.  How must God feel?  (Yes, I believe God is emotive.)

The whole idea is ludicrous when I think about it.

What a ridiculous thought!  Trading God for a kitten.

While I hope Brooklyn changes her mind, I realize that the more crucial issue is that I change my perspective.  Because why?  He wouldn't trade me for anything.