Thank you, Mr. Lightyear...

To say Bronson is obsessed with Buzz Lightyear might be an understatement.

If he didn't have a mother, he would watch Toy Story 1, 2 & 3 on a repetitive loop.

All.

Day.

Long.

But Buzz is special...

Maybe because they've both been to "Infinity and Beyond",

I dunno.

He was, hands-down, B's favorite birthday gift.

He's his bedtime buddy. His playtime pal.

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And no one.

I repeat

NO one

messes

with

Buzz.

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Well, in all the loving,

Buzz's back panel has popped off.

It is somewhere in the Play Loft and is yet to be found and replaced.

Which leaves him with a bum wing that occasionally swivels loose and ends up dangling.

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Well...

This is unacceptable.

In. Every. Way.

Bronson becomes hysterical.

Nearly unconsolable.

He cries so hard sometimes he has actually passed out.

Literally.

Needless to say, we try to fix Buzz quickly.

~

Well, this morning on my morning rounds,

Buzz was having... issues.

And our poor Little B was not a happy guy.

He did not sleep well last night, so he was a bit... unreasonable.

Quite so, actually.

~

But I handled it well, if I do say so myself.

Patiently, I took Buzz and quickly fixed the wing.

Easily popping it back into place.

Each time quietly showing Bronson how to do it himself.

Quietly reminding him to play a bit more gently.

To be a bit more careful.

And each time I hugged and kissed and rocked that sad, sad little boy back to happy.

Reminding him to breathe.

Stroking his head and cheek,

and eventually patting him gently on the bottom and sending him back off to play.

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This went on for an hour.

I fixed Buzz a couple dozen times.

But each time Bronson broke him,

he was equally as hysterical.

Equally as quick to run him straight over, right to me.

And equally anxious for me to fix him.

I seriously began to consider just replacing him!

If Bronson hadn't eventually worn himself out in this process,

I might have actually given in...

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The wiser "big-picture" side of me

had to talk the "helicopter-mom" side of me

out of running straight to Toys-R-Us for a new Buzz.

Several times.

At that point, it seemed a reasonable, if not necessary solution.

But Bronson finally curled up on his beloved Puppy Pillow and drifted off to sleep,

broken Buzz and all.

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{Sigh}

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And then the lesson sunk in.

How many times have I done this?

Made the same choice, over and over expecting a different result?

Hoping I could haphazardly use the same carelessness

and not experience the same heartache?

And how many times have I run, broken wing dangling,

right to my Father in Heaven,

begging...

desperate for Him to fix it...

yet again?

Wondering if He could?

If He would?

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And yet always His constant, loving reply.

Reassurance.

Consolation.

Unconditional patience.

Understanding.

Peace for my troubling soul.

He straightens the wing...

Then straightens the girl...

Then sends me back out on my way.

~

Oh, Buzz...

Dear sweet, Buzz...

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Thanks for the lesson today.

What more do you have to teach me?