Sweet prayers turned rat out mommy rant

There is nothing I love more than hearing my babies pray.  It's a wonderful opportunity where we get to hear the desires of their hearts, their concerns, and the blessings they treasure most.  It's sweet, hilarious, and often concerning.

You're thankful for bombs, eh? 

How do you even know what that is?

And why, exactly, are you thankful for them?

At what point do I report you to Homeland Security? 

I'd like to pretend that their prayers are always reverent, said in sweet, whispering voices, but in reality that would concern me.

Is that a hushed voice I hear? 

Are you ill?

What disease do you have? 

Better yet, are you contagious?

Mr. Crew Allen has started using the English language to pray, and it's intelligible.  For the most part he repeats what we say, with few exceptions.  Take, for example, the occasion when Rod whispered, "We're thankful for Mama...."

Silence.

Zero response.

Nothing.

Thinking he didn't hear, Rod repeated, "We're thankful for Mama..."

"Dankful DADDY!!"

Because Rodney is wise, once again he said, "We're thankful for Mama..."

"Dankful DAISY!!!"

And again. "We're thankful for Mama..."

"No!!"

Really? 

 I'm confused, dearest little one.

Need I remind you about every evening we share?

When you whine next to my leg while I prepare dinner?

I believe your exact words are: MAAMMMAAAA.

HOOLLLDDD MEEEEEE.

MAAAMMMAAAA.

That's not even the half of it.

Paxton continues to pray for a new baby.  That child has a short fuse, is easily distracted and has approximately *thismuch* patience, but his resolve and determination to request a sibling by prayer is impressive, to say the least.  This has been an ongoing request for at least half a year.  The other night, for example, he requested that "his brothers and sisters (were) safe in Heaven". 

Brothers and sisters?

Each gender plural?

I'm no mathemitician, but that's several more babies, young sir.

And judging by your half-naked brother chasing the dog around the room, I'm not sure more brotherS *and* sisterS would  be in the best interest of my sanity.

And when exactly did family prayer become the platform to point out every indiscretion of mine?

"...and help Mommy make better choices and not yell...

...and her said I no watch TV and that's a bad choice...

...and she not listenin' to Jesus...

...and she not share her candy with me..."

I know you just didn't tattle-tale on me, son.

And thanks a lot. Now I have to explain what candy I didn't share.

You weren't suppossed to walk into my closet while I shoved chocolate in my mouth.

I was hiding for a reason.

I suppose it's time for a new hiding spot so I can indulge in chocolate without being found or ratted out during a prayer.