Prayer in the Hands of a 5 Year Old

We may have to rethink prayer over here at The Tea Party Place. It's taking a toll on my ego. Here's how Griffin's prayers have gone during this past week.

"...please bless Daddy's work. Please bless Logan that she will feel better. Please bless me that I will be good. Please bless Mommy that she won't be so stressed out..."

or

"...please bless Mommy that she won't kill our dog..."

or

"...please bless Mommy that she won't be mad at Lincoln...'


Finally I had had it. After the amen following that last one I said, "O-kay. Let's get one thing straight: I am not an angry person! When have you ever seen me get mad at Lincoln?"

"Sometimes you do when he doesn't eat from here," he retorted pointing at his chest.

"What?? What are you talking about?"

Apparently he is not picking up on subtext and intonation. When I say to a little baby, "Okay, Mister. You'd better eat or Mommy's going to be very mad at you," in a high-pitched, sing-songy voice, I do not expect anyone to take me literally.

Or when I say to Mr. Wicke that I am, quote, "going to kill our dog" I am using it as an expression. Not a statement of fact. But apparently 5 year olds don't understand sardonic humor.

And as for me being stressed out, I wonder that Griff never thought to bless himself that he would finally learn to obey. That would do wonders for my level of stress. Until then, I guess we are just going to have to avoid calling on him to pray--at least in front of strangers.