It's summer. Three kids. All day. No time to blog.

Things I've overheard this week:

Bradley explaining to Bailey about how when you die and get to Heaven, there's a special machine that checks your heart to see if Jesus is in it. If it doesn't find Jesus, a big hole opens up under your feet and you fall straight through to hell. Not quite doctrinally accurate, but I decided to let it go for now.
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Today Bailey asked me who my grandkids are. I told her that I don't have any because none of them have children yet.

She said, "Yes, I do. I have Bryant."

"Yes, but Bryant came out of my belly, not yours."

This led to a fascinating walk down memory lane about how fat I was when Bryant was in my belly. I said, "You'll understand one day how uncomfortable that is."

Bradley said, "Not me."

"No, but your wife will understand. You'll have to hear her complaining about wanting the baby to come out."

"Yeah. Then I'll have to have surgery to get her to stop having kids."

Sometimes it would be nice if he didn't pick up on EVERYTHING.

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This conversation led to him saying he would let McKenzie have 60 babies if she wanted to -- or whoever he married.

Bailey said, "You aren't going to marry McKenzie??"

"No. She said she didn't want to anymore."

I asked him if this made him sad. He said, "I don't know. She said we could talk about it again when we're old."