I'm a terrible mother. Please don't tell God.

I realize He already know this.

I've been thinking lately that I'm doing pretty well at the mom stuff. I've been making my kids be in bed before 9; I've been packing nutritious lunches; I make the kids brush their teeth and bring in their own lunchboxes from the truck at the end of the day. I take them to church most Sundays, and they don't cry when I drop them off at "Sunday Church" (Garrett's term). I even take time to read them books many nights.

I don't, apparently, talk to them about God enough.

Tonight, Braden and I were reading chapter 2 of a space book (yes, nonfiction. The kid really prefers nonfiction). "The Universe" was the title of this chapter. Within a few pages, the book began describes The Big Bang--you know, the universe was created from a mass of matter smaller than a pinhead (yes, really, that is what the book said) until The Big Bang. Now, I get The Big Bang, but I also get the version in Genesis. So, I decided to pull out The Bible to share with Braden another version of the creation.

I grabbed my old trusty children's Bible off the shelf--the one my Dad gave me in 1982. I showed it to Braden and told him how my dad gave that Bible to me when I was his age. He thought that was pretty cool. I then opened it to Genesis and began to read.

He asked a few questions: "Why does it keep saying 'And there was evening and there was morning?'" and so forth. And then...get ready...he said, "Enough of that one mommy, let's get back to the real story," and grabbed his Space book.

Oh gosh.

I've got some work to do.