When You're Mad at Jesus
I (Dave) was driving the kids to school. Sam, five years old, was in the back with Sophie (six), when he said, with great worry in his voice: "Dad my finger is bleeding!"
"I'm sorry Sam," I said. "What happened?" I never took my eyes from the road, which was like every road in Provence: five feet wide and winding all over the place."
I pulled a piece of skin off and now it's bleeding!" He was ready to start wailing.
"Which finger is it?" I asked, hoping to distract him.
He stuck his middle finger between the two front seats so I could see it.
"It's the finger you point at the sky when you're mad at Jesus."
"Why are you mad at Jesus?" I asked.
"I'm not mad at Jesus," he replied. "That's just the finger you use when you ARE."
Don't ask me where they come up with this stuff. I just pay the bills.