I think we could say my religious up-bringing of the children has been...spotty, at best.
While I believe I believe, I'm very literal-minded - and resist. There's also the way there is no Sunday school for little 'uns in our church, and there you have it - kids with a half-assed God philosophy. (love, Mom)
So tonight I was really thrilled to hear Rosey trilling along with me as I warbled 'The Lord Is My Shepherd' *(a la 'The Vicar Of Dibley')...until I shut off the shower and discovered she was singing about poop.
I goggled at her. You know those aren't the words, right?
She giggled. 'Mama, sing it with me!'
At least she got the tune right.
*I do, however, have a HUGE fondness for the old hymns.