During our prayers tonight, our conversation went something like this:
Emma: Mommy, are all the people sick?
Me: um, no.
Emma: Who is sick so that we can pray for them?
Me: Uh, well daddy is sick, remember, he has a sore throat.
Emma: Oh yeah, he has a sword froat, just like you had a pickle (i.e. tickle) in your froat.
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