Are You There God? It's Me Santa

Sam's been swearing a lot lately. I say this matter of factly because I can only blame Bryon and me. I mean, I doubt he's hearing it from Miss Heath, his first grade teacher, or Mr. Harris, his Sunday School teacher.

His latest game is to have good Star Wars guys fight bad Star Wars guys and as the bad guys are dying they yell "Jesus Christ!" as they fall into a pit of hot lava (or hot 'lavee' if you're Jake).

Yesterday, after a couple of minutes of this, I stepped from the kitchen into the living room and said, "Sam, wait, can you hear that sound?"

"What sound?"

"Really? You don't hear that muffled, whimpering sound?"

"No. What is it?"

"It's God crying because you say bad words."

"Nuh uh. That's not true."

"Yes it is. He's crying because you have a potty mouth. And you know another reason he's crying?"

"Why?"

"He's crying because He's going to have to tell Santa you're being bad."

"NOOOOOO. Don't tell Santa. PLEASE. PLEASE, don't tell Santa!!!"

Apparently, God needs a PR agent.