This post comes to you compliments of a Daddy friend of mine, who started reading my blogs and sent me an email with a story about his youngest. He thought I (and you, o faithful readers) would get a giggle out of it, and with his blessing I am presenting you this very cute story.
Just a quick prefix. He is a single Daddy, with three kiddies (7, 5 and 3) who spend one weekend every month with their Grandparents. Davy is their aging cocker-spaniel. His kids have been saying nightly prayers pretty much since they could grasp the idea of them, and each night they have three things to talk to God about: something they are thankful for that day; if someone they know is sick, they ask for God to help them get better; and if there is a question they have and would like an answer from God about (Daddy then goes to Wikipedia to research an answer, makes it more 'kid' friendly and writes it on a chalk board in their kitchen. The kids check it each morning for their answers from God).
Okay, so now you have a bit of an idea of whats going on, here we go.
Daddy picked up the kids from the Grandparents on Monday afternoon, and after they had dinner and their baths, and had read their stories, it was time for prayers. Mr. 7 pretty much does these on his own (likes his privacy), Miss 5 was pretty standard, if somewhat lengthy (almost 10 minutes for her prayers - apparently she had a story to tell God). But little Miss 3, well hers was the interesting one.
Kneeling at the side of the bed, they say their prayers and then she talks to God about her '3' things.
"Thank you for letting us have chocolate cake for breakfast. Grammy makes the best cake and it was nice to have it for breakfast" (you just know Grammy got a phone call from Daddy about them having cake for breakfast).
"Please make Davy better. When he throws up it's really stinky and I don't like it" (again, Davy is their dog and he's getting old).
"How come sand won't make a good sandcastle without water?' (great question).
Then there was a slight pause, and with her hands close to her mouth she said "And thank you for my special treats in the sandbox". This made Daddy sit up and wonder what she was talking about. "Honey, what special treats are you talking about?". She looks at him and seems hesitant to answer so he says, "It's okay, you can tell me". She then precedes to tell him about the special little candy she found in the sand box while playing before dinner. "They look just like M&M's without the hard part". Getting worried now, he asked her if she had eaten any of them. "No. I was saving them. I put them in my treasure box". Somewhat relieved but still a little concerned, he asked if he could see them. Seeing that she was reluctant to do so, he added "It's okay. I just want to make sure they didn't melt, because it's so hot". This seemed to ease her concerns, so she went and got her 'treasure box' (old shoe box that she keeps all her special little items in) and showed Daddy her special treats. When he realized what they were, he asked if he could take them and put them in another box and then put that in the fridge so they don't melt. After a little prodding, she agreed.
Miss 3's special treats were cat poop. It would appear that the neighbors cat has decided that their new sandbox is it's new litter box. The rest of his night consisted of him emptying the sand out of the sand box and calling his sister to watch his kids for a little while as he made a late night dash to Walmart to get fresh sand, a cover for the sand box and replacement candy for Miss 3. Needless to say, he didn't sleep much that night, and he has become very vigilant about putting the cover on the sand box ever since. He's just thankful Miss 3 thanked God about her special treats.... God only knows what would have happened if she hadn't.
Till next time, may the treats in your house never come from dubious sources.
(found on a blog called Funny Mail and there's a heap of them. I love how honest and innocent kids are when it comes to asking questions)