This morning resident five year-old and self-proclaimed god, Lucy, had cinnamon toast (she has become inordinately fond of Cinnabon brand bread and its trademarked "cinnamon bursts") while I looked at the paper.
Musing to herself, Lucy said thoughtfully, "Mommy goes to heaven. IRIS GOES TO HELL! I go to heaven."
"Where does Daddy go?"
"With me."
He'll be happy to hear that his prior fate of being sent to hell where he would have no friends has been rescinded.
"Where does Daddy go?"
ReplyDelete"With me."
Sounds ominous. I see a life of servitude to the God Lucy in someone's eternity.
I LOVE your daughters!
ReplyDeleteIt reminds me of a conversation with my girls. I should preface this by saying that my m-i-l is an evangelical southern baptist who fervently prays every night that husband and I will allow her to take our children to church with her.
From the back seat of the car -
L: Mama, if you are scared or need help, you can pray to Jesus.
M: Really, who told you that?
E (voice dripping with sarcasm): Grandmommy.
M: Really, and what happens if you pray to Jesus for something?
E (again with the voice): NOTHING!
It was all I could do not to burst out laughing right there and then.