Over dinner last night, Maia said to Jeff,
"When I grow up, I'm going to be more like you and Mommy."
"In what way?" I asked.
"I mean I'm going to be more nicer. Like I'm not going to slam doors or spit on people or yell or say mean things to people."
"Well, if that's the case, I guess it's ok if you grow up," I said.
"And when I'm 31, on top of being nicer, I think I'll also go to confession like you two."
Jeff informed her, "You don't have to wait until you're 31 to go to confession, Maia! I think you'll be able to go at about seven."
"Right," I said, "that's only three years away. I'll take you with me on Saturdays."
"Ok," she said.
And Jeff added, "And if you want to stop slamming doors, spitting on people, yelling, and saying mean things, you can start doing that whenever you want."