Three-year-old ears hear everything. Every. Thing. They are omnipotent little creatures.
No matter how preoccupied you may think they are with your contrived distractions, they are listening and taking in every word, mentally crouching like a hungry tiger, waiting to pounce at just the right opportunity to gobble up your tender juicy pride.
Sunday morning at church, Sean was busy racing his Lightning McQueen matchbox car up and down my arm and gobbling up Goldfish by the fistful — seemingly oblivious to the inspired and impassioned sermon about hell, fire and brimstone.
Just as the preacher paused for dramatic effect, Sean comments rather loudly, “Well THAT doesn’t sound good!”
And indeed it did not.