Heard Around the House

After a rather large (huge) lunch this afternoon producing a big-bellied toddler, Sean said to me, "soporific baby in Seannie's belly."  I have Beatrix Potter to thank for my son's growing vocabulary.  Soporific (we didn't know what it meant before the Tale of Benjamin Bunny either).

I also have Ms. Potter to thank for my son's future career ambitions.  We had friends over this weekend and one of them asked Sean what he wanted to be when he grew up.  Sean usually answers "Pope" to this question, but yesterday he said "Priest. Father Jeremy...Mr. Jeremy Fisher."  I can understand the progression (regression?) from Pope to priest (he's just being realistic) and Fr. Jeremi said mass that day, so we can understand him emulating the local parish priest, but Mr. Jeremy Fisher is a frog in a Beatrix Potter story. 

Here is the future Mr. Fr. Jeremy Fisher, contemplating his vocation

This move was accompanied by the statement "Jesus does that."  So sweet. Except that he stole Baby Xavier's baptismal candle and wouldn't give it back to him. (Jesus doesn't do that, Seannie).

Jesus, if you want me to be the Pope, I'll do it for you. Just say the word.