Trailing clouds of glory as we come. . .

So, my older son, Marcus asks me last night if he could talk to God and then folded his arms.

I said, "Of course. Here's how we start: 'Dear Heavenly Father-'"

"Mother?" He says, staring up at me with the bluest eyes you've ever seen.

"Mother?" He says again.

"Yes," I say, "her, too"

"Ok." He says and bows his head again to continue the prayer.

"We say thank you for our blessings: daddy, mommy, baby Milo, Grandma and Grandpa. . ." and so on and so forth.

While I try to get him to close the prayer he takes over and adds his own little two cents worth: "Blessings, baby, thank you. Blessings, daddy at work with Trent, thank you. Amen."

Applause.

He claps after everything.

I'm interested in the fact that he had to include "mother" with "father." Does this mean I'm doing my job correctly or he's just that much farther ahead of me spiritually?

In any case, it's cute that instead of asking to pray he asks to talk to "God."

Wow.