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Mother Hen

As we prayed for a pregnant friend last night, my son interrupted.  “But the baby’s not a boy, mom.”

I put my hands on his small shoulders and whispered what I knew, “Yes, honey.  The baby is a boy.”

There was a second of silence.

“Buuuut,” my son stammered, the wheels in his head grinding. “Mommies can only lay girls.”

My husband and I shared a smirk.  Then I reached over, ruffled my feathers and tucked in my young.

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One Response to “Mother Hen”

  1. Sarah says:

    Thanks for the prayers and his friend Joshua believes the same thing. 🙂

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