After a long and stressful day at work I came home to change my daughter's explosive diaper. Noticing how far up her back it had travelled, how infinitesimally close it was to staining her freshly washed onesie, I was heard to utter the Lord's name in vain.
Of course the almost-three year old picked up on it. Of course.
You said 'Christ', Mommy?
Eager to correct my errant ways, or at least cover my ass for the time being, I replied: I did. I said a prayer to God. I'm asking 'Christ, please help me clean this mess'. (I take a generous view of those of us calling on the Lord in less than orthodox ways.)
My son, ever certain of his exalted place in the world, responded to my plea: No Mommy, not right now. I don't want to help.
Well, thanks anyway, kid. I wasn't previously aware of your divinity. Perhaps you can nip your sister's explosive diapers in the bud and we'll have more time for your regularly occurring temper tantrums there, Jesus Himself.
Of course the almost-three year old picked up on it. Of course.
You said 'Christ', Mommy?
Eager to correct my errant ways, or at least cover my ass for the time being, I replied: I did. I said a prayer to God. I'm asking 'Christ, please help me clean this mess'. (I take a generous view of those of us calling on the Lord in less than orthodox ways.)
My son, ever certain of his exalted place in the world, responded to my plea: No Mommy, not right now. I don't want to help.
Well, thanks anyway, kid. I wasn't previously aware of your divinity. Perhaps you can nip your sister's explosive diapers in the bud and we'll have more time for your regularly occurring temper tantrums there, Jesus Himself.
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