I was doing the dishes after dinner tonight, when Bella asked me if I knew what "devotions" meant. Note: She's a silly little creep. All day every day. Anyway, I told her yes, of course I know what devotions are. (I think I went so far as to say I was "the reason for devotions." In retrospect, that may have been borderline heresy. Maybe?)
At this point, mom, seeing that I was being attacked by a vicious 7 year old, came running to my defense. She said, "Bella! It's not like Dani was raised in the jungle of Zimbabwe!"
The conversation digressed, with me and Bella discussing the pros and cons of living in the jungle of Zimbabwe.
Payton tried to cut in a few times, asking what we were talking about. Jungle? Gumble? Gumball? (We didn't really respond.)
A few minutes later, Payton was feeling particularly neglected, so he made some snide little comment to me. I was feeling extra mature, so I responded, "Well, you've got FOOD all over your FACE. And that is GROSS."
His response?
"It's not my fault I was raised in the GUMBO of JIM-BOB-WAY!"
Sounds like Payton will start his own Blog someday.
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