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He'll be happy to hear that his prior fate of being sent to hell where he would have no friends has been rescinded.
2 comments:
"Where does Daddy go?"
"With me."
Sounds ominous. I see a life of servitude to the God Lucy in someone's eternity.
I LOVE your daughters!
It 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.
Post a Comment