Yesterday, after we met Mr W for lunch, Ryan and I scooted into Target for a couple of things.
He's having a great time, all this one-on-one attention ("Mommy, this is my best lunch ever," he beamed at us earlier) and a half day of school sitting well with him.
I'd plopped him into the cart, so he could ride in the big basket, and I could get from point A to point B faster (SuperTarget, a nice concept, but it takes a map and packing a lunch to get across that place.) I'm concentrating, so I don't forget why I'm there, as I still need to go pick up Petunia at preschool, afterall...and Ryan asks to go to see the Halloween display. Hey, I'm just happy it's not Christmas in Target (yet) so I oblige him. As I wheel us in that direction, he just starts firing questions at me. And the first one, well, it made me laugh out loud...
"Mommy, is it true that if you go trick-or-treating, you make the devil stronger?" "What? Where did you hear that?" "Some kid at school said it, is it true, is it?" I stifle my laughter and formulate an answer: "Well, son, people believe different things when it comes to this...."
"And what exactly do you have to do so that God will let you into heaven?....." "Well, son, um, you need to understand that..."
"And you know what? The boys, they keep on tricking me with sarcasm. How come I don't get that?" <referring to his wisecracking older siblings> Sigh.
You have to understand that he got all this out in the time it took me to wheel us past the aisles between shoes and bedding. Barely enough time to digest the question, much less formulate a coherent response.
Um, uh, ah, stammer, stammer, giggle, don't count when you are faced with two big brown eyes looking for answers to the cosmos.
In his next breath, he was pointing at candy and costumes.
Thank that omniscient being that resides in the sky.