Conversation on the Eve of Paul's Birthday

Paul: (Coming downstairs after he’d been put in bed) Mom, there’s good news and bad news about my birthday.

Me: What’s the good news?

Paul: I’m going to be 5!

Me: And what’s the bad news?

Paul: Someone’s going to cut up all my pacies. (Pacifiers.)


A little bit later, as I rocked him, trying to help him relax enough to sleep …

Paul: Mom, there’s more bad news about my birthday.

Me: Oh? What?

Paul: (Wistfully) You won’t be able to rock me anymore after I’m five.

(I assured him that he would fit in my lap for a good long time to come.)


May you have the courage and passion for God’s word of the men for whom you are named.


Trouble Berner said…
Happy Birthday Paul!

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