After nearly three hours at my daughter’s softball game this afternoon, my six year old son started getting a little restless. He finished off some popcorn, a sucker and a snowcone before I ran out of money for food.
So, I did what any parent would do and I told him to play in the dirt.
I bent to the ground and picked up a rock. Then I demonstrated my dirt-drawing techniques and said, “Here. Take this rock and write your name…like this.”
My son took the rock from me and began to scribble a design. As other parents looked on, I started to feel embarrassed because he wasn’t following my very simple instructions.
I asked, “What are you doing? Why don’t you write your name in the dirt like I showed you?”
He not only replied as if talking to a complete blockhead, but I think he also ditched me in the line to heaven when he said, “I don’t want to write my name. I’m drawing a picture of Jesus on the cross.”