Tonight, after getting together with several family members to celebrate my birthday, he did not feel ready to go to sleep even though it was 9:00pm, 30 minutes past his usual bedtime. He threw a little fit and tried to climb out of his bed, but I laid him down on his pillow and gently but firmly held him from leaving. He protested and cried but eventually calmed down. I said cheerfully, "Okay, Cannon, it's prayer time! It's Daddy's turn to help. Dear Heavenly Father..."
There was a pause, and I figured I'd be praying alone tonight. But then he sadly muttered back, "Father," still sniffling.
"Thank you for cousins," I suggested.
Almost in tears: "Thank you for Cannon could be a sad guy."
Molly and I tried to hold back our impulse to laugh, but at the same time it broke our hearts.
"Heavenly Father, please help Cannon not to be a sad guy," I said, as I gently rubbed his back.
Still hurting, he sadly replied: "Please bless we could go to dinosaur museum tomorrow."
I continued prompting him through the remainder of it, thanking Heavenly Father for nursery day, our yummy dinner, etc., but he was done and didn't speak another word.
