Corny but Cute! The preacher was wired for sound with a lapel mike, and as he preached, he moved briskly about the platform, jerking the mike cord as he went. Then he moved to one side, getting wound up in the cord and nearly tripping before jerking it again. After several circles and jerks, a little girl in the third pew leaned toward her mother and whispered, "If he gets loose, will he hurt us?" One Saturday morning I awoke to the delightful smell of waffles and the sound of our two small boys in the kitchen with my husband. Paddingdown to breakfast, I sat down on my husband's lap and gave him a big hug for his thoughtfulness. Later that day, we were having a heated "discussion" in our bedroom when our four-year-old, Jacob, stopped us in mid-sentence. Standing in the doorway, he said, "Mommy, try to remember how you felt when you were on Daddy's lap." Six-year-old Angie and her four-year-old brother Joel were sitting together in church. Joel giggled, sang, and talked out loud. Finally, his big sister had had enough. "You're not supposed to talk out loud in church." "Why? Who's going to stop me?" Joel asked. Angie pointed to the back of the church and said, "See those two men standing by the door? They're hushers." Our five-year-old son Mark couldn't wait to tell his father about the movie we had watched on television, "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea." The scenes with the submarine and the giant octopus had kept him wide-eyed. In the middle of the telling, my husband interrupted Mark, "What caused the submarine to sink?" With a look of incredulity Mark replied, "Dad, it was the 20,000 leaks!" It was a hectic day of running errands with my wife and son. As if the stress weren't enough, four-year-old Christopher insisted on asking questions about everything, told me how to drive better, and sang every song he knew. Finally, fed up with the incessant chatter, I made him an offer, "Christopher, if you'll be quiet for just a few minutes, I'll give you a quarter." It worked. But when we stopped for lunch, I unknowingly began to harp on him. "Christopher, sit up straight ... don't spill your drink ... don't talk with your mouth full." Finally he said seriously, "Dad, if you'll be quiet for just a few minutes, I'll give you a quarter." To help our five-year-old son with the trauma of his pet goldfish's demise,I agreed he could "send the goldfish back to God" any way he wanted. Expecting him to give the goldfish a proper burial in our flower garden, I was surprised to receive a call from our rural area's postmaster. "Could you come over?" She asked. "I have something to show you." I headed right over. "A lot is expected of the post office," she said, laughing, "but this is the most amazing delivery we've ever been asked to make!" On the outside of a business-sized envelope printed in big blue capital letters I recognized Ben's printing: To God from Ben. Inside the envelope was a very flat, dead goldfish. My friend, Carolyn, was frustrated by how often her four-year-old son, Brian, was getting dirty playing outside. At wit's end, she finally said, "Brian, can't you play someplace where it's cleaner?" "If God didn't want us to play in the dirt," Brian logically said, "why did he make so much of it?" My first-grade daughter, Jenny, loves to sing. One day as I drove her to school, we were "accompanying" Michael W. Smith on his song, "Angels Unaware." When we got to the line, "Maybe we are entertaining angels unaware," I heard her version loud and clear: "Maybe we are irritating angels unaware." I couldn't have said it better myself. When my grandson, Billy, and I entered our vacation cabin, we kept the lights off until we were inside to keep from attracting pesky insects. Still, a few fireflies followed us in. Noticing them before I did, Billy whispered, "It's no use, Grandpa. The mosquitoes are coming after us with flashlights." When my grandson asked me how old I was, I teasingly replied, "I'm not sure." "Look in your underwear, Grandma," he advised. "Mine says I'm four."