When we pick up Brother from his Sunday School class each week, we have the same routine.
We ask and he assures us that he had a great time. We then ask what his Bible story was about for the day. We usually get the most adorable four year old version of what they learned about. It's enough for us to pick up quickly on which story it was and we can discuss it further.
Recently, he was excited to talk about his story because it was about a baby. A baby named John. When John was in his Mom's tummy, his Dad talked to God and then couldn't talk anymore so he had to wave his hands to get people to understand what he needed to say.
"Oh," I said, "I think you are talking about John the Baptist!"
Looking at me very seriously, he shook his head. "No, Mom. It was John the Baby."
"Oh, right. John the Baptist when he was a baby."
"No," he said speaking slower since clearly I'm having trouble understanding, "it wasn't John the Babatist. It was John the Baby."
One day I'll understand that my children really are smarter than me and I'll stop trying to correct them when they are telling stories.