Going

I think the Person who receives evening prayers must look forward to those being offered by the children.

You want to talk entertainment?!

Last night, following a day that included church attendance, swimming at West Edmonton Mall, the eating of assorted junk and the wind-down of puzzlemaking with family, five-year-old (hereinafter known as 5YO) disappeared into the bathroom to ‘take care of some business’.

She came out a few minutes later with a strange look on her face.

“What’s the matter?” her mother asked.

“It looked really strange,” 5YO said.

“Strange, how?”

There followed a short conversation of strange-appearances-from-the-past.

I’m editing because—yuck.

“But this was different,” 5YO said.

“Well next time you see something different, please tell me before you flush.”

“Okay.”

5YO happily went back to puzzlemaking.

And the subject was, thankfully, dropped.

The evening wound down.

Bedtime approached.

Routines were adhered to, even though the day had been anything but normal.

Teeth brushed, hair braided, hands and face washed, pj’s donned, journal updated, story read, song—sung.

5YO was on her knees to say her evening prayer.

Now you have to know that this is often the highlight of the day for whoever is putting her to bed.

Usually momma.

The prayer rambled around for a while. Thank you for my mommy and daddy. Grampa and Gramma. Thank you for cousins and pets and toys.

Then the unexpected. “Please don’t let any more yellow stuff come out of me. Amen.”

Ummm . . .

All I’m saying is: I wouldn’t mind being on duty when those prayers start to arrive.

I’ve got my notebook.