We have a small crucifix that we didn't realize was in the range of Kenny's growing reach. It disappeared one day this week and got mixed in with his toys. A short while later, a two year old being a two year old, the crucifix was launched from the living room and landed in the dining room, separating the corpus from the cross. Rosey gathered the pieces, explained to Kenny how we have to show respect for sacred objects (and that, for that matter, throwing ANYTHING inside the house isn't permitted) and assured him that I would fix it when I got home from work. So what was I greeted with when I arrived home? Kenny runs to me yelling: "Daddy puts Jesus back on the cross! Daddy puts Jesus back on the cross!" I'm told he'd been repeating it most of the afternoon.
Touche, my son. Touche! To be more precise, I helped put him there in the first place. But point taken. Bring on Lent.