Out of the mouths of babes

I have a great husband.

I know.  I've told you that before.

But it's true.

You see, he manages Dallin's bedtime routine for me.  Because at the end of the day I tend to run out of patience.  Big time.  Having dealt with Dallin's two-year-old self with all of its, em, quirks all day, I get to the end of my tether rather quickly as bedtime approaches.

Dear Dad helps him brush his teeth, plays puzzles with him, reads to him, sings to him, and helps him say his prayers.

This prayer was one of the classics:

Dad:  "Father..."

Dallin:  "No!"

Dad:  "...in heaven..."

Dallin:  "No!"

Dad:  "...thank you..."

Dallin:  "No!"

Dad:  "...for my family...."

Dallin:  "No!"

Dad:  "...and my toys..."

Dallin:  "No!"

And on, and on.  I think Dad cut that one a little short.

Sometimes it's hard to believe that God wants us to "become as a little child"!