P.K.

Edith is developing her Preacher's Kid credentials early.

Yesterday during the children's sermon--the point in the service at which the children are invited down to the front of the sanctuary for a message pitched to them--the congregation was treated to the sight of Edith and her little buddy, Josh (another Preacher's-Kid-in-Training), sitting on the steps engaged in just about every activity except listening to the minister. While he gamely tried to get the kids focused on identifying items from the church's lost-and-found and speculating on how one knows who a lost item belongs to, Edith and Josh were tickling each other, holding hands, pulling each other's hair, and leaning in for kisses and love pats. At one point Edith stood up, faced the congregation, and raised her arms several times in sweeping arcs, as if directing them in song.

All of this is within the range of normal for the preschoolers during the children's sermon, though as a newcomer to children's time, Rev. Y seemed more hesitant than Rev. Peggy would have been to call out the kids by name and admonish them to behave.

It was after the service, however, that Edith took it to the bona fide P.K. level. We were having lunch at a local diner, and I asked Edith whether she had been listening to Rev. Y during the children's time.

"Yes," she insisted.

"Do you remember what he was talking about?" I asked.

"Jesus."

Said with confidence just bordering on attitude, the perfect mixture of knowing a safe bet and daring us to contradict her.