Out of the Mouth of Babes

1) We’re transitioning to summer camp now, while the grass in my tiny yard accelerates. Last week we held our last club of the school year. Between games and celebratory milkshakes, we talked about Luke 24 and the resurrection. A seventh grader posed this brain-exploder:

“So after evil is defeated and Jesus comes back, God says he’s going to recreate the world, right? But won’t we still be tempted to sin? What if it starts all over again, like a cycle.”

To which one of the easily distracted kids said, “WHOA – WHAT IF THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE?”

Brain exploded.

2) On Wednesdays, I tell a story to our after school program, a collection of surly third graders from an elementary in Springdale. Currently, we’re on a series about Robofox and his best friend, Charles the Mouse. Charles has a tiny bow and tiny arrows. Robofox has two metal legs that can transform into many things. Through the course of the narrative, Robofox’s legs have been wheels, magnets, grappling hooks, flamethrowers, lightsabers, and a time machine.

After I finish, the program director asks the kids to recite the story. Then he’ll ask, “What would your arms turn into?” Aside from a few direct answers, we get these:





The idea of a horse attached to each arm is disturbing and unlikely to be helpful. I’d like to know who taught Jose the word, Medusa.

3) Holly and I ate dinner with my parents on Thursday, celebrating an early Mother’s Day. I called my brother to warn him that there would be presents, and he claimed he may not bring one. He lied, and brought a 20-pound stoneware bowl. He said, “I got you so good!”

My nieces and nephew were there, climbing on the kitchen drawers and using the cast iron fireplace tools to clean the family room. I tried to stop them, afraid that they would rip the nobs off the gift wrap and ribbon drawer. My mom stopped me.

“I learned this lesson long ago,” she said. “If I own it, grandkids should play with it. You know, John Owen (my twelve-year-old cousin) said it best to my momma: Why would a grandma have a bed with poles you can’t swing on?”