TalkRadio, I have a lot of time for deep, existential discussions with my kids. We chat about all sorts of things; the meaning of life, politics, fashion, and literature. (I don't think The Berenstain Bears series has been added to the canon yet). Or maybe we just talk about colors, the alphabet, whether the stoplight is red or green, and sing "Old MacDonald" over and over. I could be fuzzy on the details.
Sometimes, Natalie wants to know what her friends and their families are doing. I'm sure their lives are really much more interesting than my standard "they're at home taking their naps" reply. A few weeks ago, we were talking about who has girls and boys in their families as we drove to the bank.
"Why did Caroline get a boy?" Natalie wanted to know. She cut a sidelong glance at Michaela Byrd, who did not look very apologetic for being born a girl.
"Well, I guess Jesus knew she needed a brother, so He sent her a boy." I answered, turning onto the highway.
"How can we get a boy?" asked Natalie, as if we could just open a Babies 'R Us catalog, choose model #487, and request overnight shipping. "He can have my room, and I'll sleep in Michaela's room." (I'm sure he'd love the green, cream, and pink stripes on his new walls)
Not wanting to go into details of insurance premiums, hospital bills, and percaset prescriptions for post C-section pain, I just told her she'd have to ask Jesus about it.
A brief pause. "Jeeesus, can you send me a brudder?" she called loudly, looking at the ceiling of the car. Always the proactive one.
Intrigued, I peered at her in the rearview mirror. "Well, what did Jesus say?" I asked.
She sighed. "He didn't send one right down."
I guess that was a good lesson for her in the importance of prayer versus instant gratification.
I, personally, am glad He didn't send a brudder "right down."
Our Trailblazer only has room for two carseats in the back. That would have been a tricky ride home.
21 hours ago