Pirates, Pirates

When I arrived home last night, I was greeted by a young boy, equipped with a bandanna around his head, a painted swashbuckler's mustache, a plastic sword, and a brown paper peg leg.

Later that evening, after our Bible reading, I was talking to Him about Jesus. He actually appeared to be listening, even asking some profound questions such as, "Why did he have to die? He didn't do anything." I explained a little more. After a few minutes, he gently reached his little hand up to touch my face. Then he put a finger over my eye and said, "Daddy, you look like a pirate."

Guess that's enough theology for tonight.