Grandma Poppie recently stayed with us for two weeks. At some point during her stay, presumably on a Sunday getting ready for church, she told Smith that Sunday was Jesus' day. Smith has not taken kindly to this.
Tonight (like every night), Smith insisted on saying the prayer. He began this prayer like he begins every other:
"Heavenly Father, thank you for the day. Thank you for my family. . . ."
Then he paused. He unfolded his arms, opened his eyes and started yelling. "But not the baby, and not Jesus! It is not Jesus' day, or the baby's day. It is my day! Jesus doesn't have a day!"
Smith might grow up to be an evil dictator. If he does, I'm blaming Poppy.
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4 comments:
So, who is this kid, Hitler reincarnate? Good Grief! How do you think he REALLY feels?
Just kidding about the Hitler thing, you know I love Smith. I'm a little in shock, that's all.
I gotta stop reading this blog in places where it's inappropriate to
a) laugh out loud
b)pee my pants
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