Today I was checking something on the sidebar of the blog and Princess came up next to me. She took one look at that picture of Jesus in the previous post and wondered why Jesus was “cwoss.”
ME: “Oh, He’s not usually cross, darling. It’s just the way the artist made Him look.” (I was aiming for a strong image of Jesus to go with that quote, ok?)
PRINCESS: “No, he’s vewy cwoss.”
I clicked off the blog and we moved on.
Later in the evening she was having an ultimate meltdown, spurred on by over-consumption of jelly beans, an exciting weekend with cousins and relatives and a fancy new dress, the fact that the boys were at Scouts and she couldn’t go, and that there are ginormous crane flies out on our porch that flit around when the porch light is on so of course she saw these when looking out for the Scouts and they scared her silly. But instead of singling out any of the above reasons for her inconsolable tears, she instead wailed: “GOD IS CWOSS WIF ME!!! I SAW HIM! HE’S CWOSS!!!”
Of course I soothed her and promised her that God loves her always, but oh my. I will not be taking her to the National Shrine anytime soon.