"Deacon, you are not allowed to leave your room until it's clean," I announce this afternoon.
"Mom, Jesus made my bones," he answered.
I have an idea where this conversation is headed.
"And he made the bones in my legs. And my legs can walk right out of this room."
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3 comments:
Wait. You can't end it there. How do you respond to that? :)
You just laugh. It's Deacon.
It reminds me of an old Nancy Sinatra song but with a twist. "These bones are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do. But one of these days these bones are gonna walk all over you." (She sang Boots instead of bones. Glad you're mostly over the 300-hr. flu!
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