Zach has stumped me the past few days with some hard questions. Here they are:
On his changing table (which I've got to stop using and get him dressing himself independently!):
"Mom, am I going to die? I don't want to die."
(a tiny piece of my heart broke off hearing him say those words)
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In the car on our way to pick up Gabe at school:
"Mom, is God on the ground?"
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