Number one-and-only son, Mr Five-Year-Old, came to me in the kitchen the other night. “Mum. You have to give me tarve maffrings to take to Sunday School next week.”
“Pardon?” I say, not quite understanding.
“Every week, you should give me tarve maffrings for Sunday School.”
Thinking quickly, I figure out what he is on about. “Do you mean tithes and offerings?”
“No!” He laughs at me. “It’s called tarve maffrings.”
“Actually it’s called tithes and offerings.” I say this very slowly and clearly, so he can get the gist. I even got a piece of paper and wrote it down so he could see it (I thought it might help since he’s learning to read quite well).
He looks at the paper and shakes his head. So old and wise is he. “No Mum. Tithes and offerings doesn’t even make sense in a sentence. It’s tarve maffrings.”
I sigh. It amazes me how a five-year-old is convinced he is smarter than a…well, someone quite a bit older than he is. “Ok then, Mr Tarve Maffrings,” I say, “You go and ask your dad what it is.”
He wanders off to the lounge room and my hubby, having vaguely heard the…er…discussion, says, “What are you supposed to ask me?”
“Nothing,” was the reply.
I guess he wasn’t game enough to be told he was wrong twice. He has since, in his wisdom, agreed that it is, indeed, tithes and offerings. 😉
Romancing The Rock 
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