Copy Them

I once heard somewhere that men function best in conversation that does not involve eye contact.  Want to know your husbands heart?  Work shoulder to shoulder with him on a project and then he'll start talking.  Want to know your son's deep thoughts?  Snuggle him at bedtime when the lights are off.  Car rides work well for this, too.

Levi's best conversations happen at bedtime and in the car.  By far.  He's looking out the window and thinking and talking, thinking and talking.  He's making up songs, he's asking 1.5 million questions. (Please tell me, at what age does the constant questioning stop?  I mean, I KNOW this is him forming thoughts in his little brilliant brain, but it makes my brain hurt.)

One of his favorite car activities is rhyming.  Most recently, he started chanting,

"Amen, copy them."

He was so proud of himself for coming up with the rhyme, "Mom, let's end all of our prayers like that."

"Mmmm hmmm, sure."  I said, only half paying attention.

So I should not have been surprised when, at both dinner and bedtime, he ended his prayers, "Amen!  Copy them!"

Herb and I exchanged a look and stifled a giggle.  I shrugged my shoulders and told Herb about the rhyme.

And then copy them didn't go away.  After several more days of of the Amen coda, I finally asked Levi what it meant - because maybe, just maybe, it was more important that a rhyme.

"Mooooom," he said said in three syllables, "you know.  We're copying God and Jesus 'cause they're so kind."

Amen, copy them.  May it be so.


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