Lord, I’m a comin’

I want to go to church. I’m not exactly sure what church is,  but I do know that I want to go into one of those pretty big buildings with the tall pointy thing on the roof and see for myself what it’s all about. I have been obsessing over going to church for a few months now. 

Mommy and daddy are supportive, but neither are church-goers.  (Heck, they were married outside by a guy who sells insurance for a living.)

Mommy promises that she will take me to church some time over the next few weeks, as long as its Congregational or Presbyterian because she is too far to the left for Catholicism. She says I have to sit and be quiet and can’t wear sweatpants. When I’m older, she says I can make my own choices about God and church and religion, even if she and daddy don’t believe in the same things. Praise the lord.

 

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Funny things I said recently

Mommy and daddy think I say some pretty funny things. I don’t really think about it much — I just say what comes to mind. That’s the joy of being 3.

“Mommy, I had a rough day.”

“I ate too much spicy food, and now I have a  spicy butt. ”

“Eww. My breath stinks.”

“Will my penis get bigger?”

“Mommy, if you are not a good girl, you won’t get your kayak.” (oops. I spilled the beans about mommy’s Xmas present).

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