There's a city on my knee!

This is just a funny story that I don't want to forget.  We listen to K-Love radio station, which is a listener supported Christian radio station.  We love the contemporary music and how it reaches our hearts and sweet Meryt's heart.  I love driving to and from school and listening to her pipe in or ask to hear a specific song.  Even more: when she brings up a song in conversation.  Her theology is usually pretty spot-on, but there are times I've completely missed the mark in my explanation.

Example:
Friday night, after a LONG day, I let Meryt sleep with me.  It was about 12:30 and I was EXHAUSTED and she should have been.  I noticed she was inspecting her knee. 
Meryt: Mama, did you know I have a city on my knee?
Me: WHAT?
Meryt: I have a city on my knee.
Me: You do not.
Meryt: Well, that's what the song says.
Me: WHAT?!?! (realization sets in and I bust out laughing)  No, it does not say that.  The song says we are a city on OUR knees.  That means it would be so amazing if everyone we know loved Jesus as their savior and got on their knees and prayed to God. 
Meryt: That's not what the song says, Mama.  It says I have a city on my knees. 
Me: No, it doesn't.  (explanation again)

I feel rather pleased with myself that I've cleared up her confusion.  UNTIL Saturday night at dinner when she says to H, "Dada, did you know we are on God's knees?" 

I'm thinking further discussion is going to be required on this topic. 

Here is the song, just in case you're curious. 

The Beginning of Discipline

I think we've arrived at that place that is always so hard for me, as a parent.  The beginning of discipline.  I clearly remember the questions I had about my methods with Meryt, my doubt in myself, but my confidence that I must begin to discipline her. 

Does she understand? 
Does she know what she did wrong?
Does she know why she's being discplined?
How long is too long after the offense to discpline?

Luke, on the other hand, gives me absolutely no reason to doubt myself.  He clearly needs to be disciplined, but how? 

He's a hitter.
He's a hair puller.
He's a pincher.
He's a biter.
He's a spitter.

Yes.  He's a spitter.  That just started yesterday morning.  I was so shocked the first time he spit at me, that I busted out laughing.  It is slightly humerous to see your chubby, sweet faced, blue eyed toddler bend at the waist and slobber toward you.  He was so mad that he didn't even notice that I had a moment of amusement at his expense.  He just spit {spat?} again. 

We've tried "time out" where we put him in the chair for 1 minute.  He just screams--because he's still mad about whatever caused his aggressive behavior.  Not because we've put him in time out. 

We tried a quick pop on the hand or the leg.  Um...that just led to more hitting. 

The wooden spoon is what we use when Meryt needs some discipline, which is not very often.  So, this morning, I busted out the wooden spoon for Luke. 

The first time he spit, a TINY pop on the leg.  He was shocked, so he immediately spit again.  Another tiny pop.  Another spit.  Another tiny pop.  Another spit.  This went on and on and on. 

Oh...did I mention Luke is INCREDIBLY strong willed? 

By nap time this morning, he wasn't spitting back after his pop. 

So, at just a few days shy of 18 months, we are at the beginning of displine.  The hard core, we are the parents-you are the child type of displine.