Self-Destruction

A few minutes ago Jake pulled up at the house after work. Grant saw him out the front window, and this is the conversation I heard him have with himself:

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"My daddy."

"No, MY daddy!"

"MY DADDY!"

"No! No! No! MY DAD!!!"

"NO! STOP IT!"


Isn't that great? I guess if we don't have anyone else to fight with, natural instincts will cause us to fight with ourselves. When Jake asked him, "Am I your daddy?" he did another miniature version. It was hilarious!

While I'm thinking about, it, I'll share this, too. A month ago we'd had a very exhausting weekend, and had a busy Sunday afternoon/evening planned. So as soon as we fed Grant lunch (it was Fast Sunday, so we didn't join him), we plopped him in bed for a nap and quickly jumped into our own beds for a bit of shut-eye before exhaustion completely overcame us.

We heard a knock at the door. We'd forgotten about fast offerings! We hadn't wanted to wrinkle our church clothes, so we weren't particularly modest enough to meet an innocent little deacon at the door. Usually they knock once and quickly move on, so we didn't bother racing to change and get there. We were banking on the fact that they would assume we were gone, and that we would just pay it with our next tithing. We settled back into our comfy pillows.

But we didn't expect Grant would start calling for us. Loudly. Another knock. Grant called, "Mommy? Daddy!" Another knock, Grant was shouting at the top of his lungs now (and his room is the closest to the front door), "Come in! Come in!" It seemed like the knocks and his calls lasted forever. There is no way they couldn't have heard him screaming, "Ope-da-door!" over and over. If we would have known they would have stayed so long, we could have gotten to the door in time.

Now we're probably on a black list somewhere. Those deacons think we're one of "those" families. Sigh.

Who knew our little guy would rat us out like that?