Yesterday, I was sitting at the gazeebo, waiting on Bonus' bus. One of my neighbors, who is also the boys Sunday school teacher, stopped by.
Her: "Oh, did I tell you about Easter Sunday and what Deuce said?"
(This always causes great fear, an overwhelming sense of dread and a teeny bit of nausea...)
Me: (flinching) "Um....no? Do I really want to know, though?"
Her: "Oh, yes! It was adorable!"
She then went on to tell me how every symbol they held up to represent a different part of the Easter story, Deuce knew. She held up a piece of cloth and he told them that it was the linen they used to wrap His body. They held up a nail and when all the other kids yelled, "NAIL!" Deuce went on to explain that they used it to nail His hands and feet to the cross. Apparently, Deuce not only could answer all their questions, but gave lengthy descriptions as well.
I have to admit, I was feeling pretty good about my parenting until she said, "So we asked him where he learned all this and do you know what he said?"
(This is the point in the conversation where the nausea returns...)
Me: "Um....home?" (hoping....)
Her: "No, he said that he learned all this from his preschool. He calls it the Jesus School."