As my sons get older, the “big” questions are starting to be asked more and more. And, while I’m usually the lucky one who fields them–because I’m a little less awkward about the tricky stuff than the hubz–today the Brocker apparently got a turn.
Unbeknownst to me.
Well, that is, until I heard my 6-year-old’s bedtime prayer tonight.
Dear God,
Thank you for making me just the way I am. I’m glad I don’t have the parts in my tummy to hold a baby. It would really hurt when it came out. Thank you; thank you; thank you for making me a boy.
Amen
As I crept away from his door giggling, I followed his prayer with my own.
Dear God,
Thank you; thank you; thank you for throwing that curve ball to Brock. I think it’s only fair since you gave me the parts in my tummy to hold all the babies. It really did hurt when they came out.
Amen
Photo: flickr.com/photos/nancymarie/2706269640
