If you’ve read this blog at all, you know that I have children. Three of them. All smarter than me. Even the one who still spits up and poops his pants. I don’t deny this. But now they’ve gone too far. If I am to believe them, the smart ones, then God is now relaying messages for me through them. Not in the grab-your-heart-that’s-so-profound kind of way. I’m talking about real conversations between God and my children, all apparently meant for my benefit.
RileyGrace (you knew this had to do with her, didn’t you?) was demonstrating her superior knowledge after church last Sunday. She was telling me (poor uneducated father) that the something or other had to be a certain way because of this or that and the other thing. (I pay great attention to my children when they speak. Of this I’m proud). Somewhere along the way, however, I discovered a flaw in her logic. Now keep in mind, I don’t have many opportunities to be right, so I grab them when they speed past.
Yet RileyGrace was undeterred by my correction and remained steadfast in her belief. (This could be a sign of things to come). Now any parent can tell you the number one rule of fathers and four-year-old daughters: Arguments are like quicksand, the harder you try, the deeper it gets. I broke the rule.
My daughter, having just come from church and feeling empowered by her ecclesiastical exploits, calls upon the scripture to support her argument.
“Daddy, the Bible says . . .”
Now, I didn’t get through 3 months of Bible drill by being slow with a King James. So I quickly interrupted.
” . . . to obey your mother and father.” I finished for her.
“Daddy!” RileyGrace threw her hands up in front of her as if to stop me in my tracks, then continued.
“God is talking to me.”
Oh, so sorry. Did not realize that. How rude of me. So I asked the next logical question.
“So, RileyGrace, what is He saying?”
“He is saying that I am right.”
Once again, I simply prove to be inferior.