SCENE I: our dining room, a couple of weeks ago
NICK (age 3): I want a plum!
MAMA: (picking up plate with toast crumbs that has been on table all day) Okay, I’ll put it on this plate.
NICK: No! That plate has crumbs on it!
MAMA: I will brush off the crumbs.
NICK: NO!!! Don’t touch them! Bring that back!
MAMA: What? You want to keep a plate with just crumbs on it?
NICK: This is no ordinary plate. This is a decoration of my church. (sets plate just so, amid clutter on table)
MAMA: Umm, you and I belong to the same church. That’s not one of our church’s decorations.
NICK: Also I belong to my other church. In my other church, we eat the Yogurt of Christ. I am the Spooner. (offering spoonful of yogurt) The Yogurt of Christ, the Yogurt of Heaven.
NICK: Mama, you’re supposed to kneel!
SCENE II: our dining room, this past Sunday
NICK: (serving as Spooner again) The Yogurt of Christ, the Yogurt of Heaven.
NICK: No! This is a different church! That’s not what we say!
DADDY: Oh, sorry, what do we say?
NICK: “You pay.”
DADDY: Um, okay…
NICK: The Yogurt of Christ, the Yogurt of Heaven.
DADDY: You pay.
NICK: No, you pay!
The yogurt in question is Brown Cow whole-milk yogurt, and it is very good, and I thank God that it exists, but I am puzzled by my son’s theology. I wonder if he’s been sneaking out to this other church while I’m asleep.