Grace
We have been saying Grace at dinner. It usually starts the same, "Bless us, O Lord..." and then we conclude with some more individualized thanks and/or requests. Shane has, on his own, begun to take responsibility for this latter part. Last night, Shane asked, "Please God look over Mommy and Daddy and Livvy, I wouldn't want to see anything happen to them and please don't let them get gunshotted."

We have been trying to discourage gun-type play, but it is very hard with this three year old boy. We think its even harder with him in class with other kids as old as six. Still, we try. Although at a recent party I was talking with a liberal democrat and a conservative republican at the same time AND both of whom I respect and both felt that forbidding it would make it all the more appealing, especially later in life. So we're pulling a John Kerry and flip-flopping a little, at least on this issue. Anyway, we were in REI a few weeks ago, and two young ladies were putting up a new display. One of them came over to ask if we needed assistance. I did. After she helped us, Shane asks "What's that?" about the cordless drill in her hand. She replies, "A screw gun." Shane advises her that "Mommy and Daddy don't like guns."