Some things change, some don't

Aden brings home from school a paper bunny that he has colored.

Mama: And who is this?

Aden: His name is Foo Foo.

Mama: (excited) Oh, I know that song! ♫ Little bunny Foo Foo, hopping through the forest... ♫

Aden: No, that's not it!

Mama: What? Why?

Aden: It's little rabbit Foo Foo, and he isn't hopping, he's riding.

Mama: Riding? He's a bunny, he's supposed to hop!

Aden: He's a rabbit and he's riding.

Mama: What's he riding?

Aden: A motorcycle.

Mama: Oh. Whatever. Anyway, ♫ ...scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head. Down came the good fairy, and she said, "Little bunny Foo Foo, I don't want to see you..." ♫

Aden: No, you messed up again!

Mama: What now?

Aden: The fairy says, ♫ "I don't like your attitude, scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head." ♫

Mama: Attitude? Good grief, well that's not how I learned it.

Aden: We're never singing this song again.

And then there's this boy.

The fears have returned. Bedtime is, for the sixth spring/summer in a row, once again a battleground. One or two nights a week he will pray hard for God to bring him peace enough to get to sleep, and of course God comes through. The other nights, Trey gives free rein to his overactive mind and lays awake for hours dreading any manner of random calamity that could, but in all likelihood would never, befall him. And we have no idea what to do.

One photo of each boy, every week, doing their thing.