Deep Thoughts

Darkness fills the sky and the car. My six children are quiet, peacefully sleeping in the back, each buckled individually into their seats. I am jamming out to the radio to keep myself awake as I drive up the canyon, from our trip to the "valley" for my mom's surprise party. Jason had to work and couldn't go with me, so I had to journey down alone... and back alone (without another driver, that is) today. As each car passes, I am temporarily blinded by their headlights, my eyes blurry and watering from allergies, which makes my vision worse. A silent prayer is in my heart... please let me just make it home safely and help me to see the way.

Suddenly, my front seat personal dance party is interrupted by a little, stuttering four-year-old in the very backseat of my car. He mutters something, but I am unable to make out what he is trying to say. I can only hear his voice. "What, Tyler?" I asked, slightly dismayed by his awakening at such a dark hour of the night, when I would only assume he would be sleeping-worn out from play with his cousins. Expecting to hear him ask something like 'Are we there yet? or How much further? or Are we still in the canyon, Mom?' I didn't hear any of those things. I turned down the radio, so I could hear him more clearly, and instead he asks...

"Mah-mah-Mom, do you wear your garments to bed? Kimberly says they are your jammies. Do you wear them to bed?"

I couldn't help but smile. What a random question. From the quiet slumber of my car, my child would awaken to ask such a random question. And I reply, "Yes, I do, Tyler. I always wear my garments, Buddy. Sometimes I wear pajamas over my garments to bed, but I always wear my garments to bed."

Thinking that would satisfy his question, I turned the volume of the radio back up and surfed for a good song. But, the tiny, stuttering voice in the back spoke again, "Duh-duh-does Aspen's Dad wear garments to bed?"

"I don't know. Aspen's daddy wears garments because he has been to the temple and made special covenants with Heavenly Father. I'm sure he wears them to bed, but I don't know if he wears jammies over them." I reply.

And then comes another question, followed by a series of questions. My response is always nearly the same.

Tyler: "Does Lisa wear garments to bed? An-an-an-and Jared, too?"

Mom: "Yes, Tyler. I believe they do."

Tyler: "Well, does Jaime... and Michael, too?

Mom: "Yes, Tyler. I am pretty sure they do, too."

Tyler: "An-an-an-and Bishop? Does he wear garments to bed? And Jessica's mom. Does she, too?"

Mom: "I think so, Bud. They have been to the temple, too, and made special covenants and get to wear garments."

Tyler: "What about Spencer's mom and dad... do they?"

Mom: "Yep. I bet they do, too."

Tyler: "Well, do I get to wear garments to bed when I grow up?" he asks. Although the car is dark, my face is written with a smile as I picture the look on his face while asking this question-mouth tipped a bit to the side, eyes focused, and brows wrinkled with perplexity.

Mom: "Absolutely, bud. That is up to you. If you make good choices and go to the temple and make special covenants with Heavenly Father, then you get to wear special garments, too. And you know what... you even get to wear them to bed, as jammies."

"Oh, cool!" he says, and with that, he didn't utter another word. Within minutes he was fast asleep again with the rest of the kids. The only sounds were from the radio and my own pathetic karaoke voice. I chuckled inside as I pondered about such a perplexing question that would trouble a little boy's mind, enough to waken him. And I wondered... what are some of his other deep thoughts.