Every one of these conversations happened in my house this morning before 8:30 am:
First, 8-year-old Adam came downstairs wearing a black shirt and navy blue pants.
Me: Adam, you need to change your clothes--those don't match.
Adam: Why not?
Me: Well, blue and black don't go together.
Adam: But they both start with B!
Minutes later, as I drizzled syrup on 4-year-old Joseph's pancakes:
Joseph: Can I put the syrup on?
Me: No, not today. How about if I give you some extra syrup instead?
Joseph: [Flipping me a thumbs-up sign] Thanks, babe!
Then I heard 7-year-old Stephen in the pantry, unable to open a new bottle of apple juice. My hip-hop child was chanting, in his best rap style:
Yo, yo, Mom, help me out!
Yo, yo, Mom, help me out!
Who needs cable when you get to eat breakfast with characters like this?
On a different note, thank you for such wonderful comments to yesterday's post. If you haven't been back to read them all, you really should--seems like many of us have stories of how the old hymns have touched us. Thank you for sharing!
