One Sunday afternoon after dinner, my children and I were driving to the local mall. My son, then about 5 years old, was riding in the backseat with his sister and they were involved in busy, animated chatter. His energy had carried over from church that morning and as the stoplight blinked to red I turned in the driver's seat.
"You know, buddy, I was a little disappointed in your behavior at church this morning. You weren't acting very grown-up."
"But Mommy," he said, his big brown eyes turning towards mine and his voice filled with innocence and reasoning. "That's because I'm not a grown-up."
Touche, Mommy. Touche.