The other night, my 5-year old was angry with me. Angry because what he needed to do wasn't what he wanted to do. Priorities.
After a small interaction where I was 'Meany' and he was angry, we finished a shower, and got his teeth brushed. Heading to bed, he stomped into his room, and in an obvious tone of 'angry-dressing' tried to 'angry' put on his shirt, over not-completely-dried-arms and his pants over not-completely-dried-legs. It was far less 'angry' and way more 'entertaining' to watch than he intended.
Finally, he climbed into bed, pulled the covers completely over his head, and then stared at me.
All of this happened while I was dressing his little brother, who was watching his performance with great curiosity.
After I finished personal prayers with the littlest one, and putting him in his crib, I turned to the 5-year old. Would you like to have personal prayers tonight? 'Yes," he mumbled.
Then began the prayer.
Dear Heavenly Father, Thank thee for this day. We hope that we will have good dreams and we hope that nothing bad will happen to us, like when we go to a store and someone kidnaps us, or like when a bomb blows up our car or something bad. We hope that we can get everything we need and that everyone can get everything they need and that what we need is good and not bad. And we hope that the kids who don't believe in Santa or magic can stay up on Christmas Eve and see Santa so they can believe he is real and not get caught and not get any presents. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen (pronounced: Ah-men, because his cousin, Luis, says it that way.)
Oh, to have the concerns of a 5-year old.
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