God and Morgan

This morning was chilly and drippy, especially compared to yesterday's teasingly warm weather. Morgan and I snuggled on the couch while I read a book and she drank from her loud sippy cup. It was a rare opportunity to snuggle and we took advantage of it.

After she finished her drink, Morgan was in a jovial mood. She stuck her arm in her sleeve so it appeared gone. "Where'd my arm go, Mommy?" We giggled and joked. Sometimes she likes to reverse roles (her idea, not mine) and pretend I'm Morgan. She threatened to give me a morning nap, which is strange because I can't remember the last time she even had a morning snooze.

As we were in the midst of role playing, I told her, "You know, Morgan, where you're as big as me, you'll STILL be my little baby." And that's when my clever daughter found an opportunity to bring up a delicate subject: "When I get big like you Mommy, then I can say..." she pauses to whisper, "oh God."

The reason she whispered it is because Dan and I forbade her from saying it. Morgan began to get confused about the appropriate use of God's name. Sometimes she would use his name liberally when she spilled things or tripped. We found this use of God's name to be unacceptable. But then, she'd be confused at dinnertime prayers when we would invoke God's name again. She doesn't understand reverence. To be safe, we told her not to say it until she gets older.

She's BURSTING to say it. Every so often, when she wonders if she's old enough, she'll inquire, "I can say 'oh God' now?" She always whispers the "oh God" part, which tells me she knows that it's special and, for now, forbidden.

I smile at my daughter's wits and sometimes tremble at how smart she is. What a marvel.