Master of the Understatement
This morning I was chatting with my 9yo and 4yo as they ate breakfast, when I noticed that Maggie (4yo) had quieted down and was holding her hand to her chest. I wondered briefly if she was having trouble swallowing, but there was no sign of distress.
Me: Maggie, you ok?
Maggie (in a very quiet voice): yes.
Me, curiously: What are you doing?
Maggie: Listening to my heart.
Me (somewhat relieved): Oh, ok.
Nate: So how is it?
Maggie looks up after a long pause: It's bumping.
Logic
On our way home today we drove by the church in town that is undergoing major repairs to the sanctuary. I mentioned how much progress had been made on the roof. Maggie asked, "Where's the steeple?" I said, "I'm not sure. Maybe they don't want to put a steeple on the new building."
There was a drawn-out silence from the back of the suburban, then finally Maggie asks, "Why don't they want to be a church anymore?"
This morning I was chatting with my 9yo and 4yo as they ate breakfast, when I noticed that Maggie (4yo) had quieted down and was holding her hand to her chest. I wondered briefly if she was having trouble swallowing, but there was no sign of distress.
Me: Maggie, you ok?
Maggie (in a very quiet voice): yes.
Me, curiously: What are you doing?
Maggie: Listening to my heart.
Me (somewhat relieved): Oh, ok.
Nate: So how is it?
Maggie looks up after a long pause: It's bumping.
Logic
On our way home today we drove by the church in town that is undergoing major repairs to the sanctuary. I mentioned how much progress had been made on the roof. Maggie asked, "Where's the steeple?" I said, "I'm not sure. Maybe they don't want to put a steeple on the new building."
There was a drawn-out silence from the back of the suburban, then finally Maggie asks, "Why don't they want to be a church anymore?"
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