Lovely Lady: Yes...yes...yes...yes...yes...no...yes.
Me: Good, now which one do you like best?
LL: Mmmm.....I can't choose a favorite. I like them all.
Me: Ok, well, maybe we could figure out which ones are your least favorites? I don't care for this one as much, what do you think?
LL (about that very coat): That's my favorite. I want that one.
Youngest gent: Momma!
Me: What, love?
Gent: Momma!
Me: What?
Gent: Momma!
Me: What?
.
.
.
.
.
(And so on....)
Three-year-old gent, aka "Speedy": Mom, my feet smell like pickles.
Me: They do?
Speedy: No...(smells toes)...no, I think they smell like toast. Want to smell them?
Me: Um, no thanks, sweetie. Really really I don't.
Speedy: C'mon Mom. Smell my feet. Pleeeaaase?
Me: Whew! Aw maaan, you're taking a bath tomorrow, kid.
Fine young gent(5),aka "Zipper," looking at toy magazine at bedtime: Dear God, I really want the golf toy. Amen. Oh wait, Dear God, I wasn't done. And I want the marble run. Amen. Mom, I asked God for ten toys.
Me: Well, honey, I am so glad you're sharing what you want with God. But just so you know, praying to God isn't like making a wish list. God is kind of like Mom and Dad, sometimes we say yes, but we don't always give you everything you ask for.
Zipper: Oh. (pause) Dear God, I really only want two things. I want the car carrier and the golf game. Amen.
Me (knowing that a car carrier is wrapped and in the cupboard, but the golf game isn't): Well, sweetie, why don't you put those things on your wish list. And remember, you get some things off your wish list, but not everything.
Zipper, in that "Obviously I am not being clear" voice: Mooooom. I am telling God and he's going to tell Santa.
(Gotta hand it to this kid, he's not afraid to go up the ladder.)
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