This morning when Misty woke up and went downstairs to check on the girls, she caught Emily in the act of praying. Our daughter was sitting on her bed, hands together, saying "God, please bring a baby boy to Mommy's tummy." For parents who are already worn out from the laborious task of raising two kids, it's the sort of thing that sends a chill down your spine. When questioned as to why she wanted a baby brother, Emily replied, "I like boys. They're fun." I hate to disappoint her, but we have no intention of introducing a new sibling into the mix, boy or girl.
We didn't teach Emily about prayer -- it's something she picked up when she was in day care. Personally, I don't like the idea of day care teaching my kids about religious practices -- I think that should be the parents' choice in where (or if) they go to church. Still, Emily's "prayers" are harmless as far as I'm concerned, so I'm comfortable with letting her continue.
Besides, it provides for much amusement at dinner time when Emily delivers her version of a blessing, which lately has been something along the lines of: "God is great. God is good. Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Kendall. Thank you, Emily. Amen."