Everyone in my house is one billion dollars, I promise. Amelia has been particularly pleasant the past few days. Just imagine, if you will, her pudgy face and half moon eyes creased up with a wide closed mouth grin. She has a face that can make Joe play physically difficult, exerting games for hours. Lately Amelia has been into violence. Not acting violently, well not usually, but wanting to learn about violence. This is a conversation we recently had in our car.
"Mom will you tell me violent stories?"
"I guess. Once upon a time there was a little boy named-"
"Mom, his name is Coch-row"
"Okay, a little boy named Coch-row.... " I go on to explain how he chooses to be violent and feels bad until he repents.
"I don't want him to repent"
"Oh, okay...." I then alter the story to show how his bad habits turn him into a mean guy who is overtaken by cops and put in jail with scary potties. (Desperate for a teaching moment, it appears.)
"I love violent stories. Will you tell me another one?"
For years Amelia has been afraid of pepperoni. She says it's spicy and bad. She often calls them "barbeques". Well, after removing all the pepperoni from her plate, she decides to be brave and try one, all on her own accord. She takes a piece, looks at it thoughtfully, then puts it in her mouth and chews slowly. Next she rapidly starts putting more of the removed pepperoni pieces back onto her pizza and says, "These barbeques are good now!" Here she looks up to heaven and smiles while saying, "Oh thank you, Jesus!"